


Dragon

by DrabbleDistillery



Series: Halfway Fairytale [3]
Category: Bright (2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Pregnancy, Romance, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2019-08-08 00:19:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16418840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrabbleDistillery/pseuds/DrabbleDistillery
Summary: Nick rode in on his white horse, and suddenly, Angie's shitty life didn't seem quite so bad. But now, they're facing a brand new beast. And boy, does it make a lot of diapers.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! I didn't forget, life just... got a little hectic, so it took me a good while to actually bang out this chapter. I hope it was worth the wait!

“I don’t like it.”

 

“You haven’t liked any of the places we’ve looked at. At least this one’s cheap!” Angie whispered hotly, making sure to keep her voice down. The realtor was right behind them, her eyes gleaming predatorily as she followed them from room to room.

 

“It’s very spacious,” she repeated, as if on cue. Angie herself wasn’t particularly pleased with the house either—it wasn’t in the shape structurally, and despite avid claims from the woman in the red suit behind them, Angie knew it would take more elbow grease than the two of them had time for to get it up to code. Despite that, the little place had promise, and the asking price was well within their tiny budget.

 

“Yes, you mentioned that,” Angie replied dryly, the displeasure written clearly on her pretty face. It was getting into winter now, which meant there were less listings for them to see, and she was beginning to feel like their decision was going to come down to which house they hated less, and not which one they actually liked and wanted to live in. Absently, Angie rubbed the achy small of her back, bending forward to inspect the countertops in the kitchen. Nick leaned in close, his breath tickling the shell of her ear.

 

“I still don’t like it.”

 

Angie sighed. “Yeah, me either,” she admitted, pursing her lips. The realtor had snuck up behind them, and cleared her throat, startling Angie. She let out a short shriek, and gasped, holding her chest.

 

“So? What are we thinking?”

 

“I think we’ll give you a call,” Nick said smoothly, and Angie had to hold back a snort— _There’s no way we’re calling you, Martha._ She followed them out of the house, though Angie suspected it was more to make sure they didn’t steal anything than out of actual protocol. Nick’s car was parked out front, and he tugged the door open for her, before sliding into the driver’s seat as the realtor looked on.

 

“Thanks. Your passenger door handle sticks,” Angie grumbled. She wasn’t sure where the sudden change of mood had come from, but Nick took it all in stride; nodding. “Should we head back to hell?” She asked, and Nick snorted with laughter. It had only been two months since she’d been officially released from the hospital, though Angie certainly didn’t _feel_ like she’d been released. Every week she went back for tests, checkups, blood work.

 

“Think they’ll draw more blood this time?” Nick asked as he shifted the car into gear, pulling out into the street. Angie rolled her eyes.

 

“I hope not. If they take more, there won’t be enough left in my body for me _and_ the baby.” _Speaking of which…_ She reached into her purse, pulling out a container of peeled orange slices. Nick glanced at her amusedly.

 

“I thought you didn’t like oranges anymore?” He questioned, gesturing to the open container in her lap. As if to spite him, Angie popped a slice into her mouth.

 

“That was last week. Now I don’t like grapes.”

 

“Good. Grapes are expensive. Hopefully next you’ll start hating avocados.”He joked, and Angie slapped at his thigh.

 

“Watch it, Nicholas. Before I develop a taste for mangoes.”

 

When Angie had learned about pregnancy from her own mother—which hadn’t been a particularly in depth discussion to begin with, considering her father had forbidden them from ever having “the talk”—she’d been under the impression that pregnancy cravings were mild. _Well either she lied, or she just didn’t know. They’re both pretty realistic options._ Angie had gone from despising avocados to needing at least half of one with every meal, and now, just about every week, she had a different desire for some fruit or vegetable; resulting in sending Nick out at all hours of the night to retrieve them. He borne it all good naturedly, though he’d drawn the line when she’d called him while on patrol, begging him to swing by with a bunch of bananas and a jar of mayonnaise.

 

The hospital parking lot was fairly busy, and the maternity ward even more so. Nick’s hand tightened around her own as he confidently met the stares of all the other expectant parents as they sat down in the waiting room. _I’ll never get used to this._ Angie was _used_ to people staring at them in public, especially now that their relationship had gone rather public. Paparazzi followed them sometimes—usually in downtown L.A., hanging around until Nick threatened them with citations or arrests. That was the attention she’d grown used to. But this? People staring in disgust as their eyes flicked from him to the barely noticeable baby bump she was sporting, their questions obvious even without being asked? She didn’t think she’d ever get used to _this._

 

“What do you want for dinner, babe?” Nick asked, the sound of his voice snapping her out of her thoughts. Angie was grateful for the distraction.

 

“Anything I can put an avocado on. Bonus points if it has mayo on it.”

 

Nick wrinkled his nose in thinly veiled disgust. “Well, my mom just texted. I figure you know, maybe now’s as good a time as any?” He wheedled, and Angie groaned. They hadn’t _actually_ told his parents yet—not because they were hiding it, but because they hadn’t actually _seen_ them for more than five minutes since she’d been discharged. _Well, we kind of_ ** _are_** _hiding it, considering…_ It wasn’t a conversation she was particularly looking forward to, but Angie knew Ula was bound to notice, especially considering the fact that she was blowing up like a balloon. _Just last week these jeans fit great. And now I’m practically popping out of them._ According to the many pregnancy books Nick had ordered, she wasn’t supposed to be showing quite so much yet, but she’d already gained almost ten pounds, and her stomach was beginning to round out.

 

“I guess,” Angie replied, though she wasn’t quite sure why she was hedging. “I—”

 

“Miss Nicholson?” The nurse’s voice interrupted them. “The doctor will see you now.”

 

There were four neonatal doctors at the hospital, two of which they’d already seen, with rather unsatisfactory results. Angie frowned at the memory.

 

 

_“I… I’ve just never seen anything like this before. It shouldn’t be possible.”_

 

_Angie clenched her fist against the armrest, doing her best to keep her face neutral. “Well, here we are. Medical marvels.” She could feel the tension rolling off of Nick in thick waves, his leg bouncing nervously. It was the first time he’d seen the baby on the ultrasound, and heard it’s heartbeat. A beautiful moment, whichwas now thoroughly ruined by Doctor Park’s thinly veiled desire to poke and prod her like a science experiment._

 

_He cleared his throat, and Angie jerked, suddenly paying attention to the words leaving his lips. “I’ve delivered quite a few Orcs in my day, and…Well, they’re not easy. Orc babies are notoriously large, and I’m afraid you… you won’t be dilated enough.” He produced two pictures from his desk. “On the left is a fully dilated human cervix. On the right, an Orc cervix. I’m sure you can spot the difference.” Though sympathetic, his voice was cold and clinical, leaving Angie nervous. She swallowed nervously._

 

_“What are you saying?” Nick’s voice had a hard edge to it, his eyes narrowed. One of his hands was clenched into a trembling fist on his leg, and the other grasped Angie’s thigh tightly, almost painfully._

 

_“I’m saying I think you should abort the fetus.”_

 

 

“Miss Nicholson?”

 

“Oh, coming.” Angie rose from her seat in the waiting room, with Nick following closely behind. The doctor was sitting behind his desk, flipping through what Angie assumed was her medical chart. The engraved nameplate resting on the edge of the desk read _Doctor Marcus Greene._ Up on the wall, were copies of her ultrasound. _Funny. I don’t remember Doctor Park asking to take these pictures._ The more she thought about it, the more frustrated Angie became—she hadn’t given him permission to take these shots—how many other doctors in the hospital had seen them? Was he shopping their case around, letting other staff take a gander at what, in his words, shouldn’t have been possible?

 

Doctor Greene looked up at them smiling vacantly.“Good afternoon, Miss Nicholson. And you must be the father, I assume?”

 

Nick’s eyes narrowed, though his face remained passive. “You assume correctly.”

 

The doctor closed Angie’s chart, setting it down on his desk. He cleared his throat. “Well. I’ve been informed by my colleague that you requested a second opinion.”

 

“Yes, we did. Funny, I don’t remember _requesting_ any ultrasound pictures my last visit. Or _requesting_ that any of that information be shared with you.” Her lips were pressed together as she regarded him tersely. _I don’t like this man._

 

“That matter would be between you and Doctor Park—I assure you, I wasn’t aware of any… breach in doctor-patient confidentiality, I’ll speak to him about it.” Greene didn’t seem particularly concerned, and Angie doubted he’d be speaking to anybody about anything—outside of busily discussing her pregnancy with an overeager Doctor Park. He leaned forward in his seat, sliding her chart forward. “I do, however, want to discuss your condition.”

 

_Condition. Not pregnancy, fucking_ **_condition_ ** _._

 

“You’re how far along, now?”

 

“About three months. Give or take.” Nick answered for her, which Angie was grateful for. If she’d opened her mouth, it was likely a stream of profanities would have come pouring out.

 

“Ah. Well, as I’m sure Doctor Park told you; I don’t think anyone in this century has delivered an… interspecies baby.” He turned toward the ultrasounds, gesturing at them. “Generally at this stage in gestation, you can expect to see features like the formation of hands, a head, the eyes.” He pointed at the first image. “You can see here… your baby is further along than that. By my calculations, the fetus is at least two times larger than a normal child at this stage—and it’s only going to get bigger.”

 

 _No. He’s not going to fucking tell me the same thing._ Angie couldn’t help herself, her mouth moving without her complete permission.

 

“You’re telling us to abort. We haven’t been in here _ten minutes_ , and you’re telling us to abort.” Angie’s voice was growing louder, and she was sure the people in the waiting room could hear her. Doctor green pursed his lips, before folding his hands together once again, and placing them under his chin.

 

“I didn’t tell you to abort, though I do believe it may be necessary. I’m merely trying to inform you of the risks of carrying this pregnancy to term.” His voice was full of faux concern. “A normal pregnancy—”

 

“You fucking said yourself, no one’s done this. Well we’re doing it.”

 

“It’s against quite literally everything I believe in to allow you to carry this child to term—don’t misunderstand me, miss Nicholson; the consequences could be fatal. For both of you.”

 

Angie rose to her feet, before impulsively leaning forward, and grasping the granite pencil holder on the doctor’s desk. “Fuck you.” She growled, and lifted her arm to heave it through the window behind him. Before she could follow through, Nick caught her arm, holding her back. “No, you let me go—”

 

“Ang.”

 

Angie allowed him to pull her back towards his chest as he addressed the shaken doctor, who was trying to clean up the various writing implements that Angie had strewn across his desk. “Fatal? Like… Angie could die, if we…if we have the baby?” Nick’s voice was quiet, his tone somber. _Why are you listening to him?_ She clutched her belly with a single hand, before shoving herself away from Nick.

 

“Oh fuck this.” She spat, before grabbing her purse and stomping out of the room, uncaring as to whether Nick was following her or not. As she’d expected, about half of the pregnant women in the waiting room were crowded around the door when she burst out of it. She thought briefly about addressing them, but instead walked out past them, her fists clenched and trembling at her sides. Angie walked all the way out to the parking lot, her chest heaving. When she found the car, she tried futilely to open it, before remembering with an angry snarl that Nick had the keys. She stormed over to a nearby bench, and threw herself down, crossing her arms.

 

 _Now it’s not only the goddamn doctors, but it’s Nick too?_ She sniffled, angry tears gathering in her eyes. After a few minutes, the raging anger had shifted into self pitying sadness, and Angie wiped at her eyes roughly, forcing the tears back.

 

“He gave me his card.” Nick’s voice was quiet, cautious. _Probably scared of another pregnant outburst._

 

“Throw it out.” Angie bit out the words as scathingly as she could manage. He sat down beside her on the bench, and Angie childishly scooted away, shrugging the hand off of her shoulder.

 

“Ang..”

 

“Don’t you do it.” She replied, her voice belaying the tears she’d swallowed. “Don’t you try to fucking convince me to get rid of it too.”

 

He was silent for a moment, but then sighed, running his hands over his forehead and down the back of his neck. “I thought you were dead.” Angie’s head snapped up, and she regarded him quietly. Nick’s head was resting on his hands, and his voice was muffled. “I thought you were dead when we found you. And it was the worst, most terrifying thing.” He looked up at her then, his golden eyes distraught. “It would be awful, to loose the baby.” He held her chin in his hands, turning her gently to face him. “But that’s nothing— _nothing—_ compared to what it would be like to loose you. I don’t want to choose. But right now? If I had to? Angie I’d choose _you._ ”

 

Angie wondered if the words felt as bittersweet to say as they were to hear. Of course it made her feel loved and wanted, but —but it also made her fearful. What if there wasn’t another opportunity for her to conceive? Angie folded her arms protectively over her abdomen, and pressed her eyes shut. _And I..I already love this baby,_ she thought, sniffing. _I already love you._

 

“I’m not ready to give up yet, Nick.” She replied softly. Angie wrapped her arms around herself, squeezing tightly. “And I… I don’t trust that these doctors have our best interests at heart. They look at me like a science fair project, Nick.” Maybe it was the hormones making her emotional, but suddenly Angie felt entirely hopeless. “I’m sick of coming back to this hospital and getting treated like… like a freak!” She felt tears gathering in her eyes, and she rubbed at them furiously, determined not to cry.

 

Nick sighed heavily. “I don’t want to give up either.” He said after a moment. He reached for her hand, threading his large fingers together with her much smaller ones. Angie briefly thought about being petty and pulling away, but that thought was dismissed when he touched his lips to her forehead. _Stupid hormones._ “We’ll keep looking for another doctor.” His voice was hopeful, but his expression was somber. Angie couldn’t help but feel as though he was attempting to put on a brave front in the face of what looked to be a 9 month uphill battle. They sat on the bench in silence for a few minutes, until Nick sighed, stretching.

 

“Want to go home, now?” He stood, offering her his hand. Angie grasped it, and he tugged her to her feet. He pulled too hard, and Angie crashed into his chest, emitting a soft “oof” as she made impact.

 

“Calm down, Hercules.” She replied, unable to stop the small smile that found it’s way across her lips. “I’m coming.”

 

“Not yet, you’re not.” He said cheekily, grinning down at her.

 

“Nick!”

 

“That’s usually what you say, too.”

 

Angie shoved him, and he stumbled, still laughing. He unlocked the car, and waited for her to get in before closing the door. Angie wasn’t sure when he’d developed such a chivalrous habit, but if she had to guess, it probably had something to do with making sure _she_ was secure before he took his eyes off of her. Since what Angie had begun calling “the incident”, Nick had gotten more protective.

 

_Protective is kind of an understatement._

 

Angie was certain it was a combination of her pregnancy and of him not wanting any kind of repeat of what had happened—so he kept an eye on her at all times. He’d even suggested going with her to her first day of classes—which Angie had shot down with the hardest “No” she could muster. She watched him walk around to the driver’s side and open the door.

 

“Do you want to go to my parents for dinner?” He asked again, fiddling with his phone. He was probably desperate for a good home cooked meal, and Ula usually made enough food to send them home with containers of leftovers for days. “Mom’s making lamb again.”

 

Angie groaned. “You know I _love_ your mom’s lamb.”

 

“And… and we’re going to tell them, right?” He asked earnestly, turning his golden eyes on her. She knew he _hated_ keeping this from them, especially considering how much it would have meant to both Brun and Ulaorn to know about the baby. Angie nodded. This was his way of conceding. They would keep looking for another doctor, and Angie would let his parents in on the news. She nodded, and Nick sighed, satisfied.

 

 _The bargain is struck,_ Angie thought amusedly, settling back into her seat for the ride home. “Nick?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Can we stop on the side of the road for oranges?”

 

“…Sure, babe.”

 

 

 

__

 

 

 

Angie was taking forever to get ready to go. Nick checked his watch reflexively, though he knew only a few minutes had passed since he’d last looked at it. He’d grown to expect Angie to be ready to leave the house in roughly forty-five minutes.

 

It had been an hour and fifteen.

 

It wasn’t so much that she was taking a long time as it was that, well… it wasn’t _like_ her. He didn’t want to rush her, it wasn’t as though they had to be at his parent’s at any set time. But…

 

“And? Babe are you almost ready?” He replied timidly, knocking on the bedroom door. Through the thin wood, he could hear a frustrated sigh, and the sound of cloth hitting the floor as though she’d thrown it.

 

“Yeah. I’m almost ready.”

 

Then, the sound of hangers clacking together as she tore through the closet. Nick cracked the door, and peeked his head inside. Angie was still standing in her underwear, at least five different rejected outfits surrounding her on the floor as she searched her wardrobe. She pulled a dress out of the closet, and held it up to her body, eyeing it in the vanity. She frowned, groaning, and threw it on the ground next to the rest of the clothes.

 

“Babe?” She whirled around, her eyes wide. “Are you… okay?” He asked tentatively, though he knew she wasn’t. Angie’s moods had been fairly unpredictable as of late—though from what he’d read, that was completely normal. He’d never brought it up, of course. Mainly because he wanted to avoid hurting her feelings, or making her even more self conscious than she already was.

 

Angie’s eyes were brimming with tears as she shook her head frantically. She gestured around herself at the clothes that had been discarded on the rug in front of her closet. “I’m sorry,” She sniffled, rubbing her eyes. “It’s just… nothing fits.” She said hoarsely, a few tears escaping down her cheeks. “Nothing fucking fits and I feel huge, and I’m getting bigger all the time!” She sobbed, stomping her foot. She gestured again, roughly at her stomach, which had just started to round out. In a…human pregnancy—Nick refused to use the word _normal_ like the doctors had, it made their child sound like some kind of abomination that shouldn’t have been—her stomach wouldn’t have been so prominent so soon. But because their baby wasn’t quite human, it was growing faster, larger.

 

So Angie, he assumed, was feeling self conscious because of it.

 

“Oh, babe.” Nick crossed the room, dragging her into his arms. Angie had never seemed particularly concerned about her weight before, but he could imagine how it might be distressing to outgrow all of your clothes in a few short weeks. “You’re just pregnant.” Angie sighed, and turned her face into his chest.

 

“How long did the books say I was going to feel this awful? I can’t remember.” She was probably feeling annoyed that she had to even ask—Angie wasn’t someone who liked not knowing what was going on with her own body, and this situation was entirely out of her control.

 

“About two or three more weeks.”

 

“Oh joy.” She replied flatly, sighing. Angie pushed away from Nick’s chest, wiping her eyes again. “Sorry, I think I got snot on your shirt.” Nick raised an eyebrow ridge and looked down to inspect his clothing.

 

“I’ve had worse things on me.” He looked around at the disaster that was their bedroom. The bed hadn’t gotten made that morning, and Angie’s clothing mishaps had left piles of discarded outfits all over the room. “How can I help?”

 

“You can tell your mom we’re not coming?” She replied hopefully, but Nick shook his head. That was one thing he _wasn’t_ willing to budge on. They had to tell his parents she was expecting, and they were going to do it ASAP.

 

“Because you can’t find something to wear?”

 

“Because I can’t find something to wear that doesn’t make me look like I swallowed a beach ball!” Angie covered her eyes with her hands, pressing the heels of her palms into her closed eyelids. It sounded like she swallowed a little sob, but Nick wasn’t sure. “Suddenly it’s like nothing fits, everything looks horrible, and I’m breaking out like I’m thirteen again.” She gestured wildly at her face. Nick hadn’t noticed—though Angie would probably say that was typical—but her face _did_ have a few reddened splotches, most of which she’d probably been covering with makeup.

 

Nick was at a loss. _He_ certainly didn’t find Angie any less attractive than he ever had. She’d always been curvy, with thick thighs and a—slightly less, now—slim waist. He cupped her chin with one hand, smoothing his thumb across her cheek.

 

“You’re beautiful, Ang.” She shook her head, and tried to pull away, but Nick held fast. “Angie, come on. So what if you can see your belly in your clothes? It just means the baby’s growing.”

 

“You don’t think I look fat?” Her eyes were narrowed in an accusing fashion, and Nick swallowed nervously. It was true that Angie had gained a few pounds, but he knew he couldn’t say that without setting off another crying fit. She _didn’t_ look fat—she just looked pregnant. Not to mention his father had warned him when he’d turned sixteen that that was the most dangerous question that could possibly be asked in a relationship.

 

“You just look pregnant, Ang. Isn’t this what we wanted?” He ventured, hoping that he’d said the right things. Angie sighed, and turned to look at herself in the mirror again. “I think you’d look nice in your yellow dress. The one with the…” he struggled, unsure of what they were actually called. “The ruffly things. And the buttons down the front.”

 

Angie snorted and cut her eyes at him, though her lips were turned up in a small smile. “You only like that dress cause you fucked me in it.” Nick’s cheeks warmed.

 

“You still look nice in it.”

 

It only took a few more minutes of soothing words and reassurances to get her into her clothes, a feat Nick was only half proud of, considering that said clothes blocked his view of Angie’s smooth, sumptuous skin. _I’ll take that dress off later, anyway._

 

“I’m ready now,” Angie replied, poking her head out of the bedroom door. It hadn’t taken her long to apply makeup, or to run a little product through her curls, which Nick was happy to see had been left down. He liked it when Angie wore her hair out, which was more often than not, now that she’d quit at the bar. Nick was happy about that too; mainly because he rarely had to put up with the maddening scents of strange men mixed in with hers.

 

The yellow sundress she wore wasn’t tight, but it emphasized Angie’s waistline, making her baby bump slightly visible just before billowing out and coming to stop at her knees. He could see why she was conscious of it. Despite Nick’s fear for her safety, the sight of it made him proud, and filled him with a profound sense of joy.

 

_My baby is in there._

 

They headed down to the car, fairly slowly, considering Nick was concerned about her falling. He wasn’t sure where exactly the fear had come from, but if the doctor’s concerns were of any merit, he figured Angie would be getting bigger more rapidly than they’d expected. And soon, it would probably be difficult for her to navigate all the steps on her own.

 

“I’ve walked up and down these stairs just fine, and will continue to do so, thank you _very_ much, Officer Jakoby.” She replied as they reached the landing, and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

 

“Just doing my job, ma’am.” He replied, and Angie laughed. “Let me get the door.” Nick unlocked his car, and helped Angie inside. He drove most times they went anywhere together, and was becoming increasingly more nervous about her driving alone.

 

“I texted Ula to let her know we were on the way,” Angie said as he slid into the driver’s seat. “So have you thought about how we’re going to tell your parents?” Nick shook his head, checking his mirrors before pulling out into the street. “Because they probably won’t be… you know _ecstatic_ that we kept this from them for so long.”

 

“Maybe we tell them at dinner?”

 

“If they don’t notice my very obvious belly literally as soon as I walk in the house?”

 

“It’s not as huge as you think it is, Ang. But yeah, maybe we say like we have to tell them something? And then tell them? I don’t know how else to do it.” He shrugged. Either way, Nick knew he’d eventually have to deal with his mother’s wrath. _We really should have told them sooner._

 

“I guess that’s as good a way as any. I’m not trying to be one of those moms who invites people over for a party and then it’s some weird pinterest pregnancy reveal.”

 

Nick laughed. “Good. I’m not buying a cake full of blue confetti.”

 

“Hold on, why blue confetti?”

 

Nick shrugged. “We always have boys in my family.” He replied, reflexively checking the mirror, looking for the tailing car he knew wasn’t there. He still worried sometimes, though if Humans First had become active again, he’d have received word from Kandomere. Angie snorted, signaling her displeasure with his assessment. Nick shook off the thoughts, and returned to the conversation, listening intently.

 

“We do not know _their_ gender yet, and we’ll find out when the baby’s good and ready.” She snapped, scooting down lower in her seat. “Besides, I think they’re going to be a girl.”

 _Do you have lots of girls in your family, Angie?_ Nick could practically hear the words coming out of his mouth, but he swallowed them.

 

With Angie’s moods cycling quicker than he could follow, it might make her emotional, and the last thing he wanted was to upset her. He wasn’t sure if she knew they’d been contacted when she’d been under, but he was loathe to bring it up. When his own parents had angrily questioned where Angie’s family was, why they hadn’t come to see her, with how bad of a way she was in, all he could offer was that they never spoke.

 

It felt somewhat cosmically unfair that Nick never got to meet her parents, though from the tidbits he’d managed to drag out of Angie, it wasn’t as though he were missing much. The longer they were together, the more he wanted to know—but at their mention, Angie usually became morose and moody. He didn’t particularly want to bring that on just then, especially considering he’d just spent the better part of an hour helping her wind down. Instead, Nick shrugged.

 

“You’re right. I guess we’ll just have to see.” He glanced at her, grinning cheekily. “But I’m pretty sure it’s a boy.”

 

His regular parking spot in front of his parent’s house was open, and Nick pulled in slowly, making sure he didn’t jerk the car around. “I think I can smell the lamb from here,” Angie groaned, licking her lips. Nick chuckled.

 

“Don’t act like that, mom’ll think I never feed you.”

 

Angie laughed, her smile spreading across her face as she ran a perfunctory hand through her hair, looking for tangles. _At least it can’t go worse than when I introduced them._ Nick helped Angie out of the car, and then straightened his shirt before following her up onto the porch. “I’ll tell her you starve us,” She laughed, placing a palm on her stomach. “That way we get more leftovers.”

 

“And you’ll be raising that baby alone, because my mother will murder me.”

 

It was as though someone had been waiting for them by the door, because it swung open as Angie reached for it. She gasped softly, stumbling backward into Nick, who grasped her shoulders firmly. She looked up at him gratefully, reaching up to squeeze his hand.

 

 _“Finapak! Kulknej avhoughav lat weren'av comaumn!”_ To his surprise, it was his father who had swung open the door excitedly, grinning down at them.

 

“Why wouldn’t we come, dad? We’re just late,” Nick replied, watching as he swept Angie into a fierce and crushing hug. Angie squeaked, and awkwardly reached up to pat his father’s shoulders. Nick glanced down at Angie. “Dad thought we weren’t coming because we were late.”

 

“Nice to see you too, Brun.”

 

“ _Liavavle daughavas!”_ Brun finally released her, ruffling her hair affectionately. “Good to see you without all the…” He gestured around him, in what Nick assumed was meant to be a reference to the various machines Angie had been hooked up to. “In good health, I hope?”

 

_Oh yeah. They haven’t seen her since the hospital._

 

Brun moved aside to allow them through the door, and Nick saw him do a double take, squinting at Angie’s back. He leaned forward as she turned around, and he sniffed the air around her surreptitiously, before gasping. Angie smiled tightly, her nervousness written on her face.

 

“Sur…prise?” She raised her arms weakly, and cracked a little grin. Brun stood stock still for a moment, and then let out a loud whoop. He stomped his foot, and grabbed Nick. He clapped him squarely on the back.

 

“James owes me two hundred bucks!” Before Nick could ask his father whether he’d really, truly bet on their ability to conceive, his mother’s voice silenced his objections.

 

“Stop yelling inside!” She entered the living room, wiping her hands on a rag tucked into her waist apron. “Oh, you’re here, I—” Brun grasped Ualaorn’s shoulders, before pressing his forehead lovingly to hers. Nick

 

“She’s pregnant, Ula!” Ula’s eyes widened, and she turned to face Angie fully, who glanced at Nick.

 

“I told you they were going to notice as soon as I walked in the door.”

 

His mother approached Angie, her hand outstretched. “You’re really pregnant.” While both Nick and Angie had grown tired of everyone’s continual wonder at the child they’d created, Nick at least had to admit: he was amazed by it too. He couldn’t begrudge his mother her wonderment, and as it turned out, neither could Angie. Ula put her hand on her stomach, her features softening just a little. She smiled, patting Angie’s belly gently. “I’m so proud. _Ul faushnu liwo heve ij ukavrong moavhas.”_

 

Nick’s eyes widened. He wasn’t sure Angie understood the gravity of his mother’s admission. Her Orkish wasn’t particularly good yet, so he translated.

 

“She said… you’ll be a strong mother.” Angie smiled gratefully, and wrapped her arms around Ula, squeezing tightly. _I’ll explain it later. When we’re home._ Ula patted her head, and then grasped her shoulders.

 

“Come. I expect the two of you are starving.” Nick got the distinct feeling he wasn’t the second person in that statement. His father elbowed him lightly.

 

“The two of us will have to fend for ourselves for the next nine months.” He chuckled. “I hope you know how to cook.”

 

—

 

 

“That wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.” Angie slid into the car, buckling her seatbelt. Nick snorted.

 

“You didn’t get the Spanish Inquisition.” He retorted, and Angie had to agree. Ula had given him the third degree, all the while soothing Angie, offering her tea and snacks and leftovers. Their backseat was full of tupperware containers, ranging from sides of rice to three fourths of a lasagna.

 

 

“You’re right, babe.” Angie replied soothingly, squeezing his thigh. “But it’s done now, they know, and they’re happy.” Angie nodded, before scowling.

 

“Speaking of which, they’re both convinced it’s a boy.” She folded her arms over her chest a little petulantly.

 

“Well, I told you. My family _always_ has boys. Even my cousin S’atha. Aarda is a boy.” Angie waved her hand dismissively. While it seemed that Nick was right about his family, she couldn’t help but question it.

 

“Whatever. I feel like they’re a girl.” Angie rested her chin on her fist, and leaned against the window. It was raining now. As they drove home, Angie found herself wondering what it would have been like to tell her own parents that she was pregnant. Normally she tried to stamp down all thoughts of them, but lately it was harder and harder to do. Being herself on the edge of motherhood, Angie found herself remembering her mother.

 

_“Momma, where do babies come from?”_

 

_Angie asked the question quietly, so that her father wouldn’t hear her from the living room. He’d tan her backside and then wash her mouth out with soap for good measure just for asking. But her mother didn’t seem to mind, though she too was careful to keep her voice down. There were certain topics—like baby making—that her father didn’t want discussed, or even alluded to._

 

**_And with how mean Daddy is to me, I wouldn’t want him being mean to Momma._ **

 

_“Well baby… when two people who love each other, sometimes… well sometimes, if they’re able, they decide to make a brand new life. That’s why your Daddy and I decided to make you.” Her mother twirled one of Angie’s braids absently. “Because we loved each other.”_

 

_“Loved?”_

 

_“Love. I meant love.” Her mother corrected herself quickly, her eyes darting around to make sure Angie’s father hadn’t heard._

 

 

“Babe?” Angie’s head snapped up. She hadn’t realized Nick was talking to her.

 

“Huh? Sorry I guess I was daydreaming.” She stretched in her seat tiredly. “Are we home yet?” Nick shook his head.

 

“No, but I was asking if you still wanted to stop and buy oranges. Ernesto’s still out, it’s not too late.”

 

“Mmm, yes please. And see if he has any avocados….” She trailed off. Classes were starting soon, and between all the doctor’s appointments, house viewings, and everything else, she hadn’t had time to go get her books yet. _I’ll go to the bookstore tomorrow._ Nick had helped her with the enrollment fees, though she’d fretted about them immensely. _I have_ ** _got_** _to get a job._ It wasn’t the first time she’d thought that to herself in recent weeks, but the trouble was, not many people were all too willing to hire a now visibly pregnant cocktail waitress. Nick’s salary was okay, but not good enough for her to feel guilt free.

 

The street was quiet by the time they returned home. Angie got out of the car, making sure to grab her bag of oranges out of the backseat. If it were up to Nick, he’d forget them. She stretched again, rubbing the small of her back with her hands. “You head up, I’ll bring up the month’s supply of food my mom sent.”Angie giggled.

 

“Don’t blame me, I didn’t even ask for anything.”

 

Nick chuckled. “Yeah, yeah.”

 

It was hard, sometimes, coming back to this apartment after everything that had happened there. Sometimes Angie expected the door to be beat in again, with slurs painted all over it, but that hadn’t happened again. She’d wake up in a cold sweat, sitting straight up in bed, expecting to see Yamahara—but she never did. _And never will again._ Angie set her keys on the hall table, before kicking off her shoes. She meandered over to the couch and sat down, waiting for Nick. When he finally made it up the stairs, he had their many packages and trays of food balanced precariously in his arms.

 

“Babe… I’m not so pregnant I couldn’t help you,” She replied, and he grunted in response, tottering into the kitchen where he set everything down on the table and counters. “Also I have no idea how all of that is going to fit into our fridge.”

 

“Considering most of what’s _in_ the fridge is old takeout, I think we’ll manage.” Angie heaved herself off of the couch, and walked over to Nick, before putting her arms around him from behind.

 

“I’ll help.”

 

Between the two of them, they managed to put everything away, though it was a tight fit. “I think I’m going to go to the bookstore tomorrow. Get the rest of my books for class next month.”

 

Nick frowned, crossing his arms. “I have work tomorrow. I can take you in the evening after I get off—”

 

Angie shook her head. “No, I think I can manage.” She sighed. They’d had this argument twice now, ever since she’d left the hospital, and she didn’t want to have it again. Nick had _always_ been a little overprotective and possessive, but ever since she’d gotten pregnant, it was like he was in overdrive. They were in constant contact when she wasn’t with him, though Angie suspected that had more to do with un-dealt with issues over her kidnapping than anything else. Nick looked uncomfortable, as though he wanted to argue, but knew better.

 

“Are you… are you sure? I just…”

 

“Humans First has been quiet for months now. If they were active in the area, I think the Task Force would have told us. It’s a two hour trip to the bookstore, Nick. I’m not a child.” It came out harsher than she meant it to, and Angie winced. “Sorry. I just… I hate being cooped up in here. It’s not like I’m working anymore, I need to do things. I can’t just stay at home and wait for you, it isn’t fair.”

 

Nick rubbed his temples. “You’re right. I know. It’s just…”

 

“Instincts, I know.” Angie squeezed his arm comfortingly, resting her head on his chest. Nick buried his nose in her hair, wrapping his arms around her. It was hard to be angry at him when he was rubbing soft, soothing circles on her aching lower back, and pressing light kisses into her unruly hair. Angie moaned softly, leaning into his hands.

 

 

“I’ll work on it,” Nick agreed. He tugged her back against his chest, his hands traveling around to cup the swell of her belly. “It’s just…” He trailed off, before tightening his arms around her. _He’s scared._ Angie realized suddenly. She’d known that the… _incident_ had been traumatic for both of them, but she’d never really thought about the fact that this protectiveness could be how he was coping.

 

_He never has to be scared if he’s in control of the situation at all times._

 

Angie leaned up to kiss the side of his face. “I know you’re worried.”

 

“An understatement.” He replied dryly. “But yes.” Angie pulled away from him to turn and look him in the eye as he spoke. “I’m scared, Ang. I can’t lose you again.”

 

“You won’t lose me,” Angie said, kissing him again. “I’ll just be at Barnes and Noble.” He laughed at this, raising a hand to rub at his neck tiredly. Angie wasn’t stupid, she knew that this, weirdly enough, was the love language Nick spoke. His love was one of showing, of actions. He was trying to tell her she was safe, and protected, and Angie would always be grateful for that.

 

“Off topic, but what did your mom mean earlier? When she said I’d be a strong mother?” Angie asked as she headed down the hallway to the bedroom, Nick in tow. “It kind of felt like one of those things that gets lost in translation.” Angie kicked off her shoes.

 

“It’s like… in the old days, Orcs were all about strength. You had to _prove_ you were strong enough, brave enough to be worthy of being accepted into a clan.” Nick explained, unbuttoning his shirt. Angie began gathering up the clothes she’d discarded, feeling a little guilty over her emotional display earlier. “These days, no one really follows the old ways, but… I guess my mom just felt like making it obvious.”

 

“Making what obvious?” Angie began replacing a few of the clothes on their hangers in the closet.

 

“You know, that you’re in. You’re family.”

 

Angie’s heart clenched. “They like me that much?”

 

Nick scoffed, turning to face her. “My dad literally calls you ‘little daughter’. I’d think so.” He replied, watching as she began to get undressed. His eyes followed the movements of her hands as she unbuttoned the sundress, tracking her progress. “Do you want some help?” He asked, and Angie smirked, before shaking her head.

 

“No thanks, I think I’ve got it.” She lingered on the next button, playing with it before pushing it through the button-hole, her fingers caressing the exposed skin of her chest before she moved on to the next one. _I probably have about ten good seconds before he comes over here and rips this dress off me,_ Angie thought to herself, as she undid the next button.

 

As it turned out, she’d grossly miscalculated. Nick lunged up off of the bed crossing the room in just a few strides to stand in front of her, and grasped her hands. He took the time to finish unbuttoning her dress, though in his haste at least two of the tiny things popped off, clattering to the floor. “You’re a tease,” he growled, pulling her against him. Angie giggled, her fingers caressing the bare skin of his muscular arms. It probably _had_ been a little mean, messing with him like that, especially since they hadn’t had much time for intimacy as of late.

 

Before Angie could apologize, his fingers were furiously working the hooks on her bra. He tugged that off too, before walking backwards towards the bed, pulling her with him. Nick sat as his knees touched the bed, before pressing his face into the hollow between her breasts. Angie moved to straddle him, and he wrapped his arms around her middle, locking her in place. Nick leaned back, his golden eyes locked on hers as he attached his lips firmly to her nipple, his rough tongue caressing the over-sensitive flesh. Angie shuddered, moaning.

 

 _“Avoo gujat…”_ He grunted, and Angie felt herself clench at the deep guttural tone the words were uttered in. “Too fucking long.” Nick rocked his hips upward, and Angie could feel the throbbing length of him pressed against her pussy. There was little between them, save for the panties that Angie wore and the briefs covering Nick’s erect cock. He bit down gently on her nipple, scraping his teeth over it, and Angie cried out, arching her back. His hands found her hips, dragging her back and forth across the barely contained bulge in his boxers. Angie rested her hands against his shoulders, tightening her thighs around his hips. She reached up to trace the outline of one of his pointed ears, and Nick shuddered, his eyelids sliding to half mast.

 

Angie felt his hands slide into her hair, his nails scraping against her scalp as he tugged her head back, and slid his nose down her throat, inhaling deeply. He licked her, his rough tongue leaving a trail of cooling saliva on her skin. Nick had been busy lately, and this month, he hadn’t taken the time to file down the wicked tusks that Angie could feel against her throat when he opened his mouth. They were small still, and sharp; which sent a thrill straight to her aching core. She clenched, and Nick must have felt it because he grinned against her throat, and sunk his teeth into the junction between her neck and shoulder. Angie keened loudly, shuddering. A fresh wave of arousal wet her thighs, and Nick scented the air, moaning against her neck.

 

With furious hands, Nick tore Angie’s panties off, ruining the lace as he ripped through it with rough fingers. Angie, in kind reached below them, shoved his boxers just far enough to free his cock, which sprang up to press hot and heavy against her dripping cunt. Angie rose up onto her knees slightly, and Nick growled low in his throat, his face still pressed into the side of her throat, his tongue stroking the bruised flesh. His hands tightened on her hips—a warning. He thought she was trying to leave. Angie reached beneath herself, positioning him against her entrance. She’d barely removed her hands when he began pressing upward, the flared head of his sex entering her inch by agonizing inch.

 

 _“Tighav…”_ He groaned, and Angie would have smirked if she wasn’t as desperate to have him fully seated inside her as he was. _Tight._ Angie moaned as he bottomed out, the head of his cock pressing against her cervix tightly. Nick held her in place with a bruising grip, lifting her slowly, and then slamming her hips down against his. Angie could only whimper, her head lolling to the side as he attached himself to her throat again, burying his teeth in her flesh. He was in complete control, pumping his cock into her leisurely, emitting muffled moans and guttural growls. All Angie could do was wrap her arms around his massive shoulders for balance, whimpering as tension built in her belly.

 

“Nick, please—!” She wasn’t sure if she was begging him to speed up, or to slow down; her thighs were trembling uncontrollably, her hips moving of their own accord as she tried desperately to reach her own end. Either Nick was paying her back, or he was too far gone to care about her desperate cries, because his speed remained the same, and his hands tightened on her hips, forcing her to keep pace with him. He groaned at the sound of her voice, and bit down harder, the sharp edges of his tusks pricking her skin. There was a liquid warmth that followed, and Angie fleetingly realized he’d actually broken her skin—but she couldn’t care about that, especially not when it felt _so sinfully good._

 

Angie clenched around him, her back going rigid as he slammed her hips down again, her thighs locking around his waist as she cried out. “Fuck, Nick!” He thrust into her once, twice more before his cock jerked inside her and he ground out something in Orkish as he came, hot heavy jets against her walls.

 

“If I could get pregnant again currently, I think that would have done it,” Angie said breathlessly, draped over his body like a wet rag. Her head was resting against his shoulder, her breasts pressed against his sweaty chest. She didn’t mind though. Angie felt him shift under her, and she twitched, clenching around him. Nick still hadn’t pulled out yet, and for the time being, it didn’t seem like he wanted to. He turned his head and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. Her neck throbbed, and Angie absentmindedly put a hand to it.

 

When her palm came away wet and red, she gasped.

 

“Nick… my neck!”

 

His eyes widened, and he grasped her chin, turning her head. “Fuck. Oh my—I’m sorry—”

 

“It’s… it’s fine,” Angie said weakly, though Nick looked at her guiltily. Angie knew this was a sore spot for him, he _hated_ seeing her in any pain, and she knew he’d be drawing unnecessary parallels between this, and the parking lot months ago. He eased out of her, lifting her hips until his head slid out of her with a soft pop. It took Angie a few seconds to orient herself, her knees weak and shaky post coitus. She wobbled over to the vanity, leaning over to inspect the left side of her throat. It was marked up a little more than usual, and there was a red spot that she knew would become a large and unsightly bruise by morning. There were red welts where Nick’s new tusks had scratched her, a few of which were bleeding lightly.

 

“It looks worse than it is,” Angie replied, turning to him. Nick still looked ashamed of himself, and she could tell he was internally beating himself up over it. True, she’d have to wear a scarf for the next few weeks while the bruises faded, but it wasn’t as though he’d hurt her intentionally. Angie knew it was hard for him—he was constantly fighting impulses to do things that Orc women would automatically understand; but that Angie wouldn’t. She’d reiterated to him over and over that she loved him for who he was, that he was free to be himself. And for the most part, he was. But he was an Orc trying to fit into a mold made for a man, and the world outside their home had marked him as an undesirable.

 

_We haven’t even been together an entire year yet. Getting comfortable takes time._

 

“That’s why I keep them filed,” he said quietly, his hands folded in his lap. “So this doesn’t fucking happen.” Nick’s voice was angry, though Angie knew he wasn’t upset with her. “I’m sorry. Ang, I’m so sorry.”

 

Angie walked back over to the bed and gripped his face between her palms gently. “I’m fine. It’s fine. It’s like… the Orc version of a hickey.” Nick scoffed.

 

“I’m filing them tomorrow.”

 

Angie knew there were other, practical reasons that he kept his fangs filed, but the main one was fitting in. “Do they always come in so sharp?” She asked, grabbing the towel she’d left on the back of the bedroom door, and headed to the bathroom. Nick followed.

 

“Yeah. Usually. They get dull when they’re exposed to the elements, and you know… most people only get them once.”

 

“I didn’t know that. I wonder if the baby will…” Angie trailed off, her hand rubbing absently over the small swell of her stomach. She sat on the lip of the tub, before reaching to turn on the water. When it was hot enough, Angie stood. “You gonna get in with me?”

 

Nick looked a little hesitant, and Angie sighed. “Babe I’m fine. Really. Please stop beating yourself up for literally just doing what comes naturally to you.” She stood on the tips of her toes to kiss him. “I’m not going to leave because I suddenly realized you’re an Orc.”

 

Nick rested his forehead against hers for a moment, his large hand splayed across the small of her back.

 

“Okay. But you have the water too hot.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long awaited, and long overdue! I'm sorry, real life got in the way. I'm going to do my best to keep to a monthly update schedule from here on out! Thank you so much for waiting, for enjoying this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to walk in with you?” Nick asked, and Angie shook her head devoutly, gripping her bag with nervous hands. Norco college was only a 45 minute drive from L.A., and their music program was nothing to sneeze at.

 

 _I guess my essay was pretty good,_ Angie thought amusedly. “No. I got this.” Angie grinned at him. “Besides,” she said, gesturing at herself, “I’m going incognito.” Angie had done her best to cover up her budding belly with a hoodie, and she was wearing leggings and sneakers, her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. She reached into her bag, and pulled out the reading glasses she almost never wore. “No one will recognize me.”

 

Nick snickered, but nodded. They’d butted heads at least three times in the past week about her classes, the last time ending with Angie throwing an orange at his head. Normally, Angie loved Nick’s protective streak, the way he treated her as if she were the only thing that truly mattered to him. But now, it was slightly overbearing.

 

_I shouldn’t pretend this is easy for him, either._

 

He’d almost lost her—and the baby, though he hadn’t known at the time—just a few scant weeks beforehand. She’d woken up a few times to find him staring at her, studying her face as though he were deep in thought. Sometimes she suspected he thought about just packing them up and driving off out into the wilderness.

 

_He probably would if he didn’t like football so much._

 

“I’ll be fine.” She said confidently, shouldering her backpack as she maneuvered her way out of the car. “Okay?”

 

“Okay.” He didn’t sound convinced, but Angie knew he wouldn’t be following her to class anytime soon. Nick’s anxiousness did nothing to deter the excitement she felt building in her gut. Of course, she still felt like she was doing everything in the wrong order— _typically you’re supposed to graduate and make it big before you get knocked up, but I’m just going to have to wing it._ Nick hadn’t pulled off yet, and though Angie had exited the car, she hesitated, her hand resting on the door.

 

“Baby you don’t have anything to prove. Not to anyone, and not to me. If this is too much right now…”

 

Angie shook her head. Nick didn’t understand her feelings—how could he? He wasn’t the one who was cooped up in the house day after day, with not even the irritation of work to break up the monotony. The only thing she had to look forward to were doctors appointments, and even those were awful. _And now nonexistent, since I almost cracked the last one’s head open with a granite nameplate._

 

“No. I’m good, I promise.” Ever since she’d learned not only of her pregnancy, but also her school acceptance, Angie had come up with a plan. She’d go as far as she could until the baby came, and then take a semester off, and then… well, then she’d try her best to roll with the punches. At least now she could say she’d made a concentrated effort to secure her own future, despite the speed bumps. She closed the door, and rested a hand on the bulge hidden by the thick sweatshirt.

 

_And what a speed bump you are._

 

Angie walked towards the building purposefully, rummaging through her backpack for the schedule she’d printed out. “Musical Theory. Howard, 205.” She said quietly, affirming that she was in the right building. She was at room 205, but there was no one there. She looked around before shrugging, and heading to the back of the auditorium style classroom.

 

Just as Angie was beginning to worry that she was, indeed in the wrong place, more students began to filter in. Many of them were younger than she was, though some by not much. Almost no one took any notice of her, a fact that she was incredibly pleased about. Not many people could have their faces splashed across tabloids for weeks and remain anonymous. At exactly 11, the professor strode in. He was a middle-aged man with a bald spot, a rather scruffy beard, and large glasses. He didn’t seem to be in a particularly good mood as he regarded the class. Their eyes met for a moment, before he turned, grabbing a dry erase marker as he began to write on the board.

 

“Good afternoon; I’m Professor Kirkland. This is Basic Music Theory, so I hope all of you are in the correct room.” To his credit, at that admission, one of the young men seated just two rows in front of Angie jerked, before quickly gathering his things, apologizing as he rose to his feet and rushed toward the door. “Anyone else? Alright. So. I’ll just go over the syllabus, and then a few other important details about your workbooks and the course load…”

 

Professor Kirkland was a blunt man, and he explained himself fairly well in short, concise sentences. He’d gone over the entire syllabus by the time the first hour of class was up, and then set about telling them that they could still use the older versions of their theory textbooks, provided they were made after 1999—they all had the same information, he said.

 

They spent the next hour discussing the syllabus and curriculum until he looked at his watch. “That’s all the time we have for today. If you could all read—and I mean actually read, not skim in the five minutes before I walk in—the introduction in your textbooks, and the first two chapters of the Rennois, I’d appreciate it.”

 

Angie had two more classes after that. She was nervous, walking around campus—what if someone recognized her? Though what had occurred at the warehouse wasobviously not public knowledge, Nick’s viral episode hadn’t been all that long ago. And Angie herself had been on the cover of the L.A. Times for her kidnapping— _though the picture wasn’t very clear, thank fucking christ._ No one had recognized her, though she supposed it was hard _not_ to recognize her when Angie was constantly with Nick.

 

Angie shook her head to clear it. She didn’t need to worry about people knowing who she was, she needed to worry about getting to English II. She looked around, and then down at the syllabus she held tightly in her hand. Which building was Franklin? She _was_ on the north half of campus, wasn’t she?

 

“Lost?”

 

The sound of the voice made Angie jump. In front of her was an older man. He was fairly well dressed, and his short, barely graying hair was combed back, away from his face. He looked at her sympathetically.

 

“Yeah, I’m… Ugh, I can’t find the Franklin building?”

 

He nodded sagely, as though he too had once struggled to find that exact place. “Yeah. It’s one of the school traditions. The graduating class switches two of the building nameplates, and they stay that way for the year. This year it’s Franklin and Harmon.” He pointed to their left at a large, imposing brick building. “That’s Franklin there.”

 

Angie sighed with relief. She didn’t know the campus all too well, but she’d been doing fine all day until this. “Thanks so much, um…”

 

“Peter.” He replied, offering her his hand. “Peter Garten.”

 

The name sounded familiar, but Angie couldn’t place it. _Maybe I read it somewhere…_ “Angie.”She replied as she grasped the offered appendage. He nodded, and she hurried off in the direction he’d pointed in. Once inside, it took Angie another few moments to determine which classroom was hers. She definitely did _not_ want to bring attention to herself by walking in late, or by going to the wrong place like that other guy had done. She settled herself toward the back, though there were few people there already.

 

It felt strange, being back in a classroom after all that time she’d spent agonizing over whether this was really what she wanted to do. Of course, most people nowadays got discovered on youtube, or other social media platforms. She’d tried it a few years ago—until Jeremy got tired of the pittance her not-yet-popular channel was drawing, and had sold her guitar.

 

 _“Get a real job!”_ _He’d snarled, yanking the instrument out of her shaking hands. It was a beautiful Alvarez, with white pearl inlay down the neck. Probably the nicest thing she’d ever owned—and the most prized, too. Jeremy was high—it was easy to see, his pupils were huge, and there was sweat running down his face as he spoke quickly, almost feverishly._

 

_“I’m barely paying all the fucking bills, and you want to waste time playing around on this stupid thing! You’re not even good,” he sneered, and Angie clenched her fists. Her cheek still hurt from the last time she’d stood up for herself, and she wasn’t particularly eager to have a matching bruise on the other side of her face._

 

_“I know. I’m sorry, I thought—” He quieted her with a look, and Angie’s mouth snapped shut automatically. She knew what_ **_that_ ** _expression meant. It meant “shut the fuck up, you stupid cow”._

 

_“How much d’you think we could get for this?” He asked, cutting her off and holding up the guitar by its neck. “At least three hundred bucks.” He murmured to himself. Jeremy didn’t wait for her to answer, he simply laid it against the doorframe behind him._

 

_“It’s worthless.” Angie pleaded. It was the last thing of any value she even owned. He’d sold everything else—though it probably would have been easier to pay their rent if he hadn’t developed such an all encompassing heroin habit. “You wouldn’t even get a hundred for it. The… the pearl’s fake.” Angie lied, but it was too late. He’d already made up his mind._

 

_“If you’d just gotten off your lazy ass and gotten a real fucking job, I wouldn’t have to do this shit, Angel.” Angie swallowed bile at the sound of the old nickname. She also swallowed the biting retort—that if_ **_he’d_ ** _stop drinking and snorting and popping their money away, they might have a little more to go around._

 

“Any questions?”

 

Angie shook herself. It was a good thing this was just the class where they went over the course material. She couldn’t afford to zone out like that in the middle of a real lecture. Angie waited until the majority of the students had filtered out of the room before packing her things up, and shoving her books into her bag.

 

“Excuse me, miss Nicholson, right?” Angie paused at the sound of her name. The professor, an older woman, was standing in the aisle, about two rows down from her. Angie fought for a moment to remember her name. _Professor… Professor Thompson, I think?_

 

“Yes?”

 

“Sorry, I couldn’t help but ask. I, well…”

 

Angie knew immediately what the older woman was hinting at. She’d recognized Angie from somewhere—the news, or maybe the papers—and now she was… what was she doing? Angie felt her features tighten. _Maybe she’s anti-my-relationship just like 75% of the fucking planet,_ she thought sourly, gripping her bag nervously.

 

“Something you’d like to ask?” She replied, her voice hard.

 

“I just… I hope you’re alright.” Professor Thompson said after a moment, her features soft. “I’m always glad to see young women in these classrooms. I do hope… I hope that you’ll stay.”

 

Angie wanted to be offended, but… it was true. At least, in part. She wasn’t coming from the _best_ circumstances. After all, that was what had kept her from going to school—or attempting to follow any dream at all—since she’d met Jeremy.

 

But… Nick had given her the confidence she needed to try again. And though it was looking fairly daunting from her end—especially given the fact that she couldn’t fit into any of her favorite clothes—she was going to do her damnedest to stay the course. “Yeah, I’m… I hope so too.”

 

The professor turned to walk back down the aisle, but paused, and turned to appraise Angie again. “Are you going somewhere, just now?” She asked, and Angie hesitated. It was only weeks before that she’d been kidnapped, and well… even the people who were supposed to protect her had turned out to be the ones who’d had the most to do with her very-near-death experience.

 

But… Angie weighed her options. She was an older woman, easily in her late fifties, with greying brown hair. Her cream colored skin had only just begun to line with age. And as she looked at Angie earnestly, all she could think was that she didn’t _seem_ to be as outwardly disgusted as Yamahara had been.

 

“No. This was my last class today.”

 

“Oh, good. Would you mind speaking with me in my office?”

 

—

 

As it turned out, professor Thompson’s office was small and cozy, bookshelves lined with biographies of every jazz musician Angie had ever loved, along with records. There were countless pictures on the wall, and in the back, nestled against the window, was her desk. Angie sank into the comfortable leather chair opposite the professor’s. She glanced at the desk, her eyes skirting over the nameplate.

 

_Professor Kate Thompson._

 

“I asked you here just because I figured you’d like a modicum of privacy.”

 

Angie nodded. “You’re… you’re actually the first person to notice me. I thought I was doing a pretty good job of keeping my head down.”

 

Kate nodded. “I probably watch more news than the majority of your classmates, so there’s also that. I just…” She sighed, clasping her hands. “I wanted to assure you that if you need anything, anything at all, please just… reach out.” Angie wondered if the tabloids had reported her pregnancy at all—it wasn’t too far fetched to think that someone on the hospital staff would have been willing pass that information off for money.

 

“What other classes are you taking?” She asked, clasping her hands and leaning her chin onto her folded fingers. Angie fidgeted. She’d never done well when she was called into the principals office as a child, and the way Kate was looking at her reminded her of sitting in that large, wooden chair opposite the stern older man.

 

“A writing class. Music theory, a digital recording class, and a history class.” Angie recited, squinting as she tried to remember. When Nick had found he couldn’t dissuade her, he’d encouraged her heavy course load.

 

“Those are good classes,” Professor Thompson responded, nodding in approval. The sound of her voice snapped Angie back to the present. “A good start.”

 

 

 

—

 

 

“How was class?” Nick asked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. It wasn’t _just_ the fact that she’d been gone all day, and that he hadn’t been able to see or smell her. It was also the fact that she was covered in the scents of strangers. Somehow that seemed to irritate him more than usual.

 

“It was okay. Mostly syllabus stuff. I’ve got some reading to do for tomorrow,” She replied, sliding into the passenger’s seat and buckling her seatbelt. Pregnancy agreed with Angie, no matter how differently she felt. Her skin was bright and dewy, and her kinky hair was healthier than it had been, even before the hospital. She smiled at him, and Nick swallowed the sudden, intense urge to have her right there in the parking lot.

 

_I should probably ask dad if it was like this for him when mom was pregnant…_

 

“How was yours?”

 

“Caught a guy trying to rob a supermarket. So that was fun.”

 

“Did you tell him to put his hands up in your big cop voice?” Angie teased, and Nick grinned.

 

“Worked like a charm.” Nick pulled out of the parking lot, and onto the street, heading for the highway. It wasn’t a long drive back to the apartment, but he was grateful as he helped her up the stairs, shouldering her bag even when she protested. He dropped it on the kitchen table, listening to Angie chat to him about her day, her classes, the people she’d met. Sometimes it felt like this was all that mattered, the moments he spent with her. Everything else was just… filler. Nick stripped out of his uniform, tossing it into the dirty clothes hamper in the bathroom.

 

“I’m surprised your dad hasn’t called yet, wasn’t he asking about my classes?” Angie asked, her voice reaching him in the bathroom. Nick grunted in the affirmative, before bending to wash his face. She emerged from the bedroom, wearing one of his t-shirts, and a pair of his socks. Nick had never really been irritated with her for wearing his clothes. It had happened slowly, a pair of socks hear or there, a few t-shirts. It didn’t stop him from teasing her about it, however.

 

“He will, don’t you worry. Also, I’m pretty sure that’s one of mine,” He replied amusedly, gesturing at her. Angie grinned sheepishly.

 

“Is it? Maybe it got mixed up with my stuff.” Angie responded cheekily, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger as she regarded him innocently. Nick barked out a laugh, before tugging her against him, kissing her forehead.

 

“Probably. It’s hard to keep track of my shirts when you put literally all of them in _your_ drawers.” Angie rubbed her nose against his chest, pressing a kiss through the thin material of his undershirt. He leaned down, and took a deep, indulgent breath of her scent, squeezing her arms lightly.

 

“Buy less comfortable clothing, and I’ll steal less of it.” Angie retorted, her voice slightly muffled against his chest. Nick grinned into her hair.

 

“Never.” Nick let her go reluctantly, and Angie moved into the kitchen, likely to grab her phone from her purse. His shirt was baggy enough that he couldn’t see the slight outline of her belly through it, and for a moment, Nick was reminded of the first time he’d ever caught Angie wearing his clothes. He repressed a shudder.

 

“I was really surprised,” She said, and Nick snapped to attention. He realized he hadn’t quite been listening to her.

 

“Sorry, what?”

 

“When the professor wanted to talk to me. She asked if I had an advisor yet, and I don’t. She _volunteered_ , Nick.”

 

He frowned. The last time people had been eager to insert themselves into Angie’s business, she’d gotten kidnapped. “Sounds fishy.” He hated the feeling of mistrust that seemed to bubble up whenever they met new people, now, but he couldn’t help it.

 

“I thought so too, but… She was really nice. Like, not weirdly, into me and asking probing questions nice, but like, older lady who wants to see you accomplish shit nice.”

 

Nick sighed. “Just be careful. I know you’re going to say no, but at least consider—”

 

Angie rounded on him, poking her finger into his chest. “I am _not_ letting you install tracking software on my phone, Nicholas.” He relented. _It’s not tracking software. It’s just GPS._ Angie could take care of herself, he knew that that was what she thought. And it was true—to an extent. An extent that began and ended at all of the variables that she could control, which wasn’t many. “Look, if you want, I’ll let you sit in on the meeting we set up on Thursday. That way you can feel her out. But I like her.” She turned back to the counter and pushed her reading glasses up her nose. She was squinting down at her phone, and Nick swallowed a chuckle.

 

Angie was cooking again. He wasn’t sure if it was the pregnancy hormones, or just plain boredom, but Angie had begun… experimenting. The other night she’d managed to pull off a pasta salad that wasn’t half bad, considering the amount of times he’d heard “Fuck!” come out of the kitchen that evening.

 

 _“I heard Hello Kitchen’s supposed to be really good. Sherri tried it.”_ Nick had only been half listening as he skimmed his paperwork, his fingers absently stroking the bare skin of Angie’s thigh as she’d laid beside him in bed. “They deliver groceries to the house. Want to try it?”

 

_“Sure, babe. Just use my card.”_

 

And here before him, were the fruits of her labor, boxes of fresh produce and ingredients. _I hope it doesn’t spoil…_ Nick shook off the disparaging thought. He’d come home the other night to find her wiping a tear from her eye as she paused an episode of some cooking show on Netflix, so he could see she was feeling inspired.

 

“What are you making, babe?”

 

“It’s like… marinated chicken? Over rice? And avocado…” She trailed off, tapping her phone screen. She was dicing up avocados with careful fingers—she’d gotten good at taking the pits out, on account of her pregnancy cravings. Nick leaned against the counter just to her right, watching her. “Do you mind? You’re making me nervous,” she replied, fixing him with a glare. “I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

 

Nick held his hands up placatingly, and meandered into the living room. He had more than enough paperwork to keep him busy—in addition to his regular load, there was also the matter of the coverup. The MTF handled thousands of cases a day, and regardless of Kandomere’s prompt responses to any perceived threats to any of his work, the organization as a whole processed things rather slowly. As such, they were only just _now_ getting to the filing and investigation of what Humans First had done to Angie in the warehouse.

 

All of the cult members in attendance had been either killed in the firefight, or arrested—but none of them were talking. They all pleaded ignorance to any larger workings, and word from Montehugh was that the interrogations were slow going. Either they were dedicated fools, or ignorant ones. Either way, Nick’s hands clenched against his thigh. It was safer now, right?

 

It had to be.

 

He’d taken out the ones threatening his mate, his child. He shook himself. There was no reason to still feel so nervous. His ear twitched as the sound of meat hitting a hot pan piqued his interest. Though curious, Nick did his best to stay put, pulling out his first stack of papers. Tonight, luckily, it would mostly just be reviewing the file of the guy they’d apprehended earlier.

 

 _And all that reading about Humans First that Kandomere sent over. And the recollection sheet. And the statement we’ve_ ** _both_** _got to sign._ Nick sighed.

 

“No, stupid—turn that way! Yes!” Angie’s voice from the kitchen made him smile. It was worth a little extra paperwork. Besides… Kandomere and the Task Force had been _more_ than willing to overlook his indiscretions during the fight—mainly by claiming that he’d been issued license to kill at Kandomere’s discretion. Nick skimmed the statement the elf had sent over, his lips pressed into a thoughtful line.

 

It stated that Nick had been acting at all times underneath both he and Montehugh’s express orders. _Guess that gives them all the credit, then._ Nick thought with wry amusement. He wasn’t particularly concerned, as long as he and Angie remained on the right side of the law. Nick registered another curse from the kitchen, though this one sounded like it was one of victory. He slid the information packet out of its manila envelope, and began reading.

 

The first few pages were background information on the organization—most of which was common information. _Formed in the sixties, just after integration, Humans First is primarily an anti-Orc organization, though they generally frown on any non-human entities. At first, it had also carried a strong white supremacist message, though that was quickly dropped in the seventies in favor of plain anti-non-human sentiment. It was a small, fringe group until the early 2000’s, until its then leader, Jeremiah Grant, began focusing on middle American dissatisfaction with federal implication of anti-discrimination measures—_

 

“Um, Nick?”

 

He looked up from the file, his amber eyes locking onto Angie’s. She was poking her head out of the kitchen, her curly hair up in a pineapple on top of her head. Her gaze was nervous. “Um, dinner’s ready.” Nick tried his best _not_ to look apprehensive as he put his paperwork down on the coffee table, and headed toward the kitchen. For such a simple dinner, it appeared as though a tornado had gone through the kitchen. There were three pans with water in them on the stove, soaking off the remains of something that had burnt at the bottom of them.

 

Angie had already served the food out, and set the table for good measure. It actually… didn’t look half bad. He sat down at the table, observing his own bowl. Cubes of avocado, chicken, beets, and slivers of scallion over rice. He took a bite, chewing thoughtfully.

 

“Look, I know it’s not your mom’s lamb and garlic broccoli but—”

 

“Ang, it’s good.” The chicken was a tad on the dry side, and the rice was sticky, but it was more than edible. It was tasty. He grinned at her. “Seriously, it’s good.” She smiled.

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah. Remember the pancakes?” He asked, his eyebrow ridge rising questioningly. Angie blushed. “I’m proud of you.” Nick replied earnestly, squeezing her thigh under the table. He didn’t mind that Angie wasn’t a cook, though he knew it was something she was _extremely_ self conscious about. But he was glad she’d found a hobby—albeit one that had the kitchen smelling like burnt food a few nights out of the week.

 

The finished eating, and began cleaning up the kitchen. Angie left the pots to soak overnight on the stove, a light blush coloring her cheeks at her misstep. “How was I supposed to know these three _weren’t_ nonstick?” She’d snapped when Nick had asked just how Angie had managed to end up burning three separate pans.

 

They were currently in the bedroom, with Angie leaning against Nick and scrolling absently on her phone as he watched football. She’d argued vehemently against having a television in the bedroom, but in the end Nick had won out, and they’d bought one. Now, however, he could see she was glad to have it—it meant she could prop herself up with pillows—and his arm—and binge netflix comfortably.

 

She stretched, the growing swell of her belly rubbing against him through her— _his—_ shirt. He glanced down at her, and hid a worried frown. She was bigger than most human women were at this stage. Even though it would be half human, the baby was still growing at an exponential rate. Nick swallowed thickly, remembering what Doctor Green had told him just after Angie had stormed out.

 

_“It’s my estimation that a vaginal birth—or even a cesarian—would be too dangerous to attempt because of the size of the fetus.”_

 

_“You’re saying there’s no other option.” Nick eyed him angrily, torn between the desire to find and comfort Angie, and to take a nice bite out of the good doctor for upsetting her. He reigned it in, his fists clenched._

 

_“I’m saying this_ **_thing_ ** _is going to tear her apart.”_

 

_Nick stood abruptly, slamming his large hand on the face of the desk. Though Doctor Green had probably been faced with angry, hormonal pregnant women before, he doubted he’d dealt with angry orcs with any sort of regularity. He jumped as Nick’s hand made contact with the wood, the contents of the desk rattling._

 

_“Don’t say anything else, please.”He breathed. “I don’t want to do something I’ll regret. Have a good day, Doctor.”_

 

But he hadn’t forgotten the placid urgency on the man’s face, or the way he’d pointed at Angie’s ultrasound. _That thing._ He laid his hand on her belly, and Angie smiled softly, though she didn’t look up at him. _Our baby._

 

“Did you find a new doctor, babe?” He asked, and she glanced up at him.

 

“Hmm? Oh, no…I haven’t. I asked Sherri, and she said she’d let me know if she found anyone.” Nick nodded, though he didn’t feel particularly encouraged by her admission. It had been almost a full two weeks since the incident at the doctor’s office. Nick didn’t want to antagonize her over it, but this _wasn’t_ a normal pregnancy, and she couldn’t pretend that the doctor’s words didn’t have merit—however misguided.

 

“Maybe… I mean we could do some googling. On our own. See what we find.” Nick suggested, looking down at her. Angie had stopped scrolling, and was pointedly staring at her blank phone screen. It had fallen asleep, but she hadn’t re-awoken it, her hand stiff around her phone.

 

“I’m scared, Nick.” She said softly, curling against him. “What if… what if they all say the same thing about the baby? That we should abort? I…” She swallowed. “I don’t want to abort the baby, Nick.” Nick had long since realized which side of the fence she had fallen on in this particular instance. Angie looked up at him then, biting her lip. Nick was at a loss. He didn’t _want_ Angie to abort. He wanted… he wanted to wave a magic fucking Wand and make it right. Make _everything_ right. But… he wasn’t a Bright. And he’d seen what that kind of power could do to someone who couldn’t handle it. Worse, he’d seen what it could do with a master that _could._ The tempting thought flitted away as quickly as it had come when Angie stroked the side of his face.

 

“We’ll look tomorrow. After class.” She replied softly, and Nick nodded, satisfied. He rubbed the swell of her stomach in slow circles, his large thumb making smaller ones just above her belly button. “You’re staring, Nick.”

 

“Sorry.” He replied, his voice completely devoid of any note of apology. “Just can’t believe we made that.” He glanced up at Angie only to find her face stricken, her eyebrows knotted with worry as she met his gaze.

 

“You’re going to stick around, right?” She asked suddenly, taking him completely by surprise. He shifted, grasping her shoulders gently.

 

“Ang, what are you talking about?”

 

“My… I always got told I was going to end up single and pregnant with nothing to show for my life. Please don’t make it all true.” Nick pulled her to his chest and buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply. He hoped their son would have hair like hers. Especially since he didn’t have any hair _at all_ on his side of the family.

 

“Angie, the only way I would _ever_ leave you—or the baby—is if I were dead. Nothing. _Nothing else_ would ever stop me from coming for you.”

 

_—_

 

 _I apologize Professor Thompson, but we will have to reschedule our meeting. I’m not feeling well, and won’t be able to make it in time,_ Nick typed, holding the phone out for Angie to approve the message. She groaned, pushing his hand away. Her head was practically in the toilet, her sweaty forehead resting on her outstretched arms.

 

“Whatever,” she moaned, retching weakly. “Just send it.”

 

Nick hit enter, hoping the email would reach Angie’s advisor before their meeting. He had taken Angie up on her offer to sit in on her meeting with her advisor, and that had been the plan.

 

Right up until Angie’s face had gone completely pale, and she’d pushed past him into the bathroom to empty her instant oatmeal into the toilet. That had been almost an hour before, and she still wasn’t faring any better—her kinky hair was plastered lankly against her damp forehead as she looked up at him miserably, her lower lip trembling.

 

“How can I still be throwing up?” She muttered, swallowing loudly. “There’s nothing fucking left in me.” A shudder wracked her body, and Nick furrowed his brow. He’d requested today off in advance, so he didn’t have to worry about their schedule changing.

 

“You want me to call Sherri? I bet she’s not on rotation today—”

 

“No!” Angie snapped. “I’m not going to keep calling Sherri every time I stub my toe, Nick.” He frowned at her, shaking his head.

 

“You didn’t stub your toe, you’ve been puking for a fucking hour. And we _have_ to call Sherri, because you don’t have a real doctor yet!” Nick shot back, and Angie groaned. He sighed. “I don’t want to fight, Ang. I’m just a little worried.”

 

“I don’t either.” She replied. “I think I’m ready to chance some water.” Angie made to get up, but Nick stopped her, his hand against her shoulder.

 

“It’s fine. I got it.” Nick strode towards the kitchen, and pulled a glass out of one of the cabinets, before filling it with filtered water from the fridge. It wasn’t like Angie _wasn’t_ trying. It was hard, trying to balance her new schedule with looking for a regular physician who didn’t think abortion was their best choice going forward. And it had only been a few days since she’d said she would begin looking—Nick was just anxious. He hated seeing her like this. Nick shut the refrigerator door and began heading back toward the bathroom when Angie’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He handed her the water, watching as she sipped it gingerly. “Your phone went off.”

 

He handed her the device, next. Angie grasped it, unlocking it. Her eyebrows shot up into her limp hair. She tapped out a response, and waited, her chin resting on her forearm. Her phone buzzed again.

 

“What is it? Did your teacher respond?”

 

“Yeah. She asked what was wrong. I told her, and she asked if I’d seen an obstetrician or a gynocologist.” 

 

“Which we haven’t.” Nick replied. Angie shot him a look, and he held his hands up placatingly. “I’m just saying.”

 

“She said if we hadn’t found anyone, her… her wife has an opening today. She could see me now.” Since they’d found out that Angie was indeed pregnant, she hadn’t been sick once. Cravings, sure, and the occasional dizzy spell or morning sickness. But _this_ was something different. “I told her we’d see her.”

 

“I’ll grab my keys.”

 

“And the mop bucket. I really, really don’t want to clean gross puke out of the car tonight.”

 

Nick laughed. Even while she felt as awful as he knew she must have, Angie found a way to reassure him. He helped her into a sweater, and then tossed his keys into his jacket pocket. “You know where we’re going?”

 

“Oh believe me, I google mapped it five minutes ago.”

 

Nick locked the door behind him, and walked ahead of Angie, making sure she didn’t get dizzy or fall. “Take Waterside all the way down to Greenpoint.” Angie said once he’d situated himself in the car. Nick nodded. “This is almost too good to be true.” she murmured, and Nick squeezed her thigh reassuringly. He had his own concerns about their safety, but what leverage could anyone possibly hope to gain by helping a young pregnant couple? He turned left onto Greenpoint avenue.

 

“Either way, I’m assuming you get a discounted doctor visit,” Nick replied, and Angie giggled. He couldn’t let them devolve into paranoia and ghost-chasing. The Task Force was handling it. Nick had done his part, and now he could get on with his life—with Angie.

 

“Hey, she didn’t say anything about a discount,” Angie replied. “Don’t get your hopes up.” She squinted down at her phone, before using her fingers to enlarge an image. “I think it’s this building up here. Second floor.” The parking lot they turned into was incredibly well maintained, with tall palms lining each side. The paint on the asphalt was new, stark and white. The lobby was rather sterile, with a receptionist who directed them to the elevator. Angie leaned against Nick tiredly, the exposed skin of her arm clammy to the touch. He frowned, before leaning over to kiss her forehead. The doors opened with a ding, revealing a tasteful lobby. There was glass paneling on either side, with the name of the practice written in foggy script. At the end of the walkway, there was a large, dark wooden desk, behind which Nick could only assume was another receptionist. She seemed taken aback at first, but then swallowed it, smiling warmly.

 

“You’re Nick and Angie, right?” The receptionist asked. “Doctor Thompson said to look out for you guys. I’ll show you to the exam room.”

 

“We don’t have to wait?” Angie asked, looking around. There wasn’t anyone in the waiting area to the left of the reception desk that they could see. The woman shook her head, before grabbing a clipboard.

 

“No, the Doctor had an opening, so she just put you right in.”

 

They followed her down the brightly lit hallway. As was typical of most doctor’s offices, it was lined with motivational posters about health and wellness, and framed pictures of flowers. The receptionist came to an open doorway on the left side of the hall, and motioned for them to go inside. “Here we are.”

 

Doctor Thompson was already inside, sitting beside the examination table on a stool The receptionist handed her the clipboard, and she glanced at it before setting it down on the edge of the table. “Oh good, Kate gave you the right directions. I’m Hannah.” She glanced at Angie’s pale, sweaty form, and shook her head. “Oh you look awful.”

 

Angie snorted. “I try.”

 

“Well why don’t you lay down here, and we’ll get started.” Hannah Thompson was tall and lanky, with long, silvery gray hair that she had tied back in a loose ponytail. If Nick had to hazard a guess, he would have said she was Korean. Had she not been a doctor, Nick could have believed that she’d been a starlet back in her heyday, her pouty lips were framed with laugh lines, and her hooded brown eyes were bright, despite her age. “Would you mind rolling up your sleeve? I’m going to take your blood pressure.” Nick sat in the chair next to the exam table, feeling uncomfortably reminded of those weeks in the hospital. He brushed it off, reaching for her hand.

 

She glanced up at Angie as she wrapped the inflatable cuff around her arm. She pumped it up, and took the reading. “And how are you feeling?”

 

“Nauseous. And very dizzy… I can’t keep down anything but water right now.” She replied, her face going a little green at the thought of food. Nick rubbed her shoulder reassuringly, as the doctor jotted something down on the clipboard.

 

“Fever?”

 

“Probably. I’m freezing.”

 

The audible scribbling of the pen was the only noise for a few seconds. “Lastly, have you eaten any fish recently?”

 

“No. I’m not supposed to, right?” Angie asked, sitting up on her elbows. “We read that it’s bad for the baby.” Doctor Thompson nodded, smiling a little. She hadn’t seemed put off, or even shocked when they’d arrived. Even the receptionist had been a little taken aback seeing the two of them together—but Doctor Thompson had treated them completely… normally. Nick wasn’t quite sure how to feel about the fact that the revelation was shocking—they’d both gotten so used to the stares, the mutters. Nick wasn’t particularly looking forward to what people would say when Angie _really_ began showing, but he supposed he’d cross that bridge when he got to it.

 

“Yes, because of mercury. But that’s not why I’m asking. I’m fairly sure you’ve got food poisoning.”

 

“Food poisoning?” Angie repeated, her eyes wide. “But all I had today was oatmeal, and last night a salad—oh my god, the recalls,” She moaned, slapping a hand to her forehead wetly. Nick narrowed his eyes. There had been lettuce recalls all over the state—all over the country, rather—and they’d bought salad at the grocery store, because it had been _cheap._

 

Doctor Thompson held her hands up placatingly. “Don’t worry. It’s not too bad. A little rest, some hydration, antibiotics, you’ll be right as rain.” She tapped her pen against the clipboard thoughtfully. “It certainly could have been worse, though, so I’d be a little more discerning about where you get your groceries.” She paused again to flip through a few more pages. “Can I ask some questions about the baby? Is that okay?” She leaned forward, seeming genuinely concerned. Nick glanced down at Angie. She seemed comfortable—well, as comfortable as she could be, given the circumstances.

 

“Yeah, sure. That’s fine. Why?” Angie replied, though there was a note of caution in her voice.

 

“I just want to make sure I’m not prescribing anything or recommending any treatments that might adversely affect them. Okay. How far along are you?”

 

“Two months.”

 

“Oh, wow, okay, I was expecting you to say four. Do you have trouble concentrating? Dizzy spells?”

 

“Yes, and yes. Yeah, I get that a lot.” Angie replied, glancing at Nick. “He’s huge, so I guess it only fits that his kid would be massive too.” She jerked her thumb at him accusingly, and Nick laughed.

 

“ _Our_ kid,” Nick corrected softly, and Angie swatted at him. He smirked, shrugging. “He’s half yours.” Hanna made another few notes, before catching their attention again. Her half moon glasses had slid just to the edge of her nose, and she pushed them up distractedly.

 

“You’ve probably got low iron too. Has your OB prescribed anything for it?” Angie cleared her throat nervously.

 

“I don’t have a regular OB right now.” Angie replied tightly, the wariness returning to her tired expression. “We’re still looking.”

 

“No luck at the hospital?” Doctor Thompson asked, and Nick shook his head.

 

“No.”

 

She looked perplexed at his answer, and then folded her hands on top of the clipboard in her lap. “I see. Well, I do have client openings, if you’re still looking.”

 

“Is your first response to any issue we have going to be an abortion?” Angie replied hotly, her eyes flashing.

 

“Was that what your previous OB’s were… suggesting?” She asked, her eyes narrowed. Her lips were pressed into a frown as she regarded them.

 

“They said the baby was going to be too big to deliver safely, even by cesarian.” Angie said, her voice small. “But I don’t… I don’t believe that.” Her hand curled protectively around the growing swell of her belly, and though her face was pale and clammy, she still looked completely determined. Nick grasped her hand, threading her small fingers through his larger ones.

 

Doctor Thompson stood, placing her clipboard on the desk on the other side of the exam table. “Do you mind if I take a look?” She asked, gesturing to the ultrasound machine. “It won’t take long. I just want to see where we’re at developmentally.” Her voice was calm, soothing, and Nick found himself nodding. “Lets just get you some water and some anti-nausea meds, shall we?”

Doctor Thompson strode over to the door, poking her head out into the hallway.

 

“Madeline? Hey Mads? Could you grab me two packets of the Phenergan? Thanks. Oh, and some amoxicillin.”

 

When the nurse arrived with the little pill cup of Angie’s meds, she took them gratefully, swallowing them down with barely a sip of water. She glanced up at Nick. “Hopefully I don’t throw these back up.”

 

He watched as the doctor laid her down, dimming the lights before squirting the cool jelly onto her bare stomach. “I’m going to press a little hard, but it won’t be for long, okay? Just enough to really see what’s going on with this little guy.”

 

She pressed the wand to Angie’s stomach, before looking up at the monitor. “Okay, here we go. Big old head, that’s the first thing I’m seeing.”

 

“Yeah, like his dad,” Angie replied, giggling when Nick crossed his arms, huffing.

 

“Looks like we’ve got all ten fingers and toes, and—do you know the gender? Do you want to?”

 

“Yes!” Nick replied, leaning forward, his hands clenched tightly against his knees. He just _knew_ it was a boy—his family always had boys. His cousins, aunts—every person capable of getting pregnant in his family _always_ had boys first. Angie swatted at his knee.

 

“I don’t want to know,” She said, leaning up on her elbows. Her eyebrows were knitted together as she shook her head. “Come on, don’t ruin the surprise. You’ve got six whole months until we see for ourselves.” Nick rolled his eyes.

 

“Six months until I’m _right_ , you mean.” He grinned playfully. “It’s a boy, isn’t it, doctor?” He asked, watching as Angie plugged her ears.

 

“If you want to ruin nature’s greatest surprise, be my guest.” She said, turning away from the ultrasound monitor.

 

He looked at the doctor expectantly, and she smirked, before shaking her head. “If the wife says wait, we wait.”

 

Nick didn’t bother to correct her—they weren’t married. Not yet, at least. Nick knew with absolute certainty that he _wanted_ to propose. He just… hadn’t found the right time. _Haven’t worked up the nerve is more like,_ he thought sourly. Nick had been wanting to pop the question since Angie had woken up in the hospital. But every time he even remotely began to broach the subject, he got tongue tied. Angie certainly wasn’t going anywhere—she’d told him as much herself. But even still, he hadn’t picked out a ring, hadn’t come up with a fun, cute scenario during which he would ask her to be his forever.

 

Angie took her hands off of her ears and stuck her tongue out childishly at Nick, who swallowed the urge to return the gesture. Doctor Thompson put down the ultrasound wand, and leaned forward, her hands on her knees.

 

“I won’t sugarcoat it. The delivery is going to be rough. But rough doesn’t mean impossible by a long shot. I think with this little bundle of joy, we’re going to have to make some incisions. But… I think… I think we can do a natural birth.”

 

“I’m—what?” If Nick knew Angie, she had been fully prepared to go on the offensive—and completely _un_ prepared to hear the news the doctor had just delivered. “But everyone else said—”

 

“They said Angie would die.” Nick replied quietly, his fists clenched. He could remember Green’s face—smug in his surety. “They said the baby’s size would kill her if she carried to term.” Hannah pursed her lips and shook her head.

 

“Yes. Your baby will be larger than the average human baby, and Miss Nicholson _is_ on the small side. But people have been having babies—and big ones at that—for thousands of years. We can do this. You’ll have to stay active of course, and do some kegels and stretching every day, but we’ll discuss it—” Hannah was rattling off suggestions faster than Nick could process. On some level, he supposed he had assumed that eventually, Angie would terminate. No one wanted to be stuck in his social circle with a distinct lack of upward mobility for the rest of their life. Having his child would all but cement that—and Angie was ready to do so. Eager.

 

Strangely, even with her limp hair, washed out features, and tired eyes, she was more beautiful _now_ than when they’d met. She probably would have rolled her eyes at him if he’d said it aloud, but it was true. Angie loved _hard_ , and without limits, he saw that now more than ever. The relief that flooded her features as she glanced down at her stomach, and then up at him, he knew what she was thinking.

 

“I think I can manage that. I’ll borrow a yoga mat from Sherri.” Angie muttered, accepting the tissues that Hannah gave her to wipe the ultrasound gel off of her stomach before pulling her sweatshirt down into place. “Thank you. For seeing me on such short notice, for…for helping us.”

 

“Don’t worry about it. You wouldn’t be the first young lady my wife shuffled through here who needed it.” She patted Angie on the shoulder. “I’d like to see you next week after your full round of antibiotics. And then we’ll go monthly from there. I know a good midwife, if you’re interested.”

 

Angie nodded, and Nick tugged his phone out of his pocket, intending to take down the information.

 

“Schedule your next appointment with Madeline out front, and she’ll give you all of Shauna’s info. I’ll see you next week, okay, Angie? Lots of fluids, take in some more protein. Start going for a walk.” Doctor Thompson’s voice was authoritative, and even Nick couldn’t help but snap to attention. When she gave orders like that, it was almost like talking to the Chief.

 

She excused herself, and Angie sat up, swinging her legs over the exam table. Nick helped her to her feet, and she leaned up, brushing her lips against his cheek. Nick smiled, the pad of his thumb tracing the line of her lower lip softly.

 

“Now you can’t nag me about getting an OB anymore.” She replied, and he snorted, before kissing her forehead.

 

“Guess not.”

 

 

_—_

 

Upon getting home, Angie decided that a nap was in order. She’d slept fitfully the night before, fidgeting and waking up constantly. Now that the antibiotics and ibuprofen had begun to kick in, she felt—somewhat—human again. Nick helped her up the stairs, and for once, Angie didn’t protest. The sure weight of his large hand resting against the small of her back was comforting. Especially when she didn’t feel quite so steady on her feet.

 

“You wanna lay down in bed? Or on the couch?” Nick asked, locking the door securely behind them.

 

“Bed,” Angie replied, and he steered her down the hallway toward their bedroom. Angie tried not to glare angrily at the pockmarked plaster— _fucking bullet holes—_ lining her walls. They hadn’t seen any houses since right before she’d started school, and it hadn’t been promising. “Don’t let me forget to reschedule my meeting with my advisor,” She muttered, and Nick chuckled.

 

“I’ll try.”

 

He helped her into bed, and tucked her in before laying down beside her, tugging her against his chest. He was silent for a moment as he pressed a soft kiss to her temple. “I’m so happy.” He said quietly, his arms tightening around her. Nick’s tone was tentative, as though he were afraid to say it. As though he thought if he expressed it out loud, it would be snatched from him like a cosmic joke. Angie could certainly relate. “I really thought I was going to choose, Ang.” Angie’s stomach clenched as she grasped his meaning.

 

Angie had never suspected that Nick _wasn’t_ happy she was pregnant. If anything, it was a cautious optimism—an unexpected silver lining. “I thought I was going to have to choose you or the baby and it was fucking killing me.” His voice came out like a sob, and he pressed his face into the side of her neck, his chest heaving. Angie squirmed in his embrace, turning so that she could face him. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing light kisses to his collar.

 

“You don’t have to choose, Nick.” She replied softly, her voice muffled by his chest. I’m not going anywhere.” He pushed her away a little, and tenderly pressed his lips to hers. He’d filed his fangs weeks before, but Angie found herself missing the sharp prick of them against the soft flesh of her lips and tongue when she kissed him. He groaned, nibbling at her plump lower lip. It _had_ been awhile, and Angie felt a little guilty when she noted the eager way Nick pressed against her, his mouth hungrily pressed against hers. She’d been tired, moody, achy—and Nick had respected that, not once complaining or attempting to guilt her into something she didn’t want to do.

 

Angie felt his hands travel reverently down her back to cup her ass, pulling her hard against him. She gasped, raising a thigh to rub against the hard bulge that had quickly grown in his jeans. “Do you feel okay?” He asked, and though his voice was rough and just a little needy, he stopped, waiting for her answer.

 

“Yeah, I’m good.” She replied, raking her nails down his shirt-covered chest. Nick growled, before pressing his lips to hers again, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. He massaged her ass with one large hand, the other cupping her breast as she moaned softly. He swallowed every sound she made, grinning against her mouth.

 

Angie rolled her hips against him, groaning when his hands tightened on her hips. He sat up to strip off his shirt, and helped Angie out of her sweatshirt, his fingers caressing every inch of skin he revealed. She loved how he touched her; almost reverently. No one had ever treated her that way before, and it was heady. He cupped her through the thick material of her sweatpants, his fingers sliding against her warmth. Angie reached behind her to unhook her bra, and Nick growled, latching onto one of her nipples immediately. The were oversensitive all the time now, and the feel of NIck’s rough tongue against the overstimulated flesh made Angie’s back bow.

 

“Nick!”

 

Her voice was hoarse from her morning spent with her head in the toilet, but he didn’t seem to notice or mind as he began tugging her sweats down over her hips. Angie kicked them off, not hearing them slid to the floor. She could feel the heat of him through his boxers as he pressed himself against her, rubbing his hard cock along the damp seam of her panties. He pulled them aside to slide his large fingers through her sopping folds, and Angie gasped, her hips bucking at the sudden contact.

 

 _“Seh weav…”_ He grunted, remarking at her wentess, and Angie blushed.

 

“I can’t help it,” She said softly, her voice hitching as he circled her swollen clit with a gentle finger. He smirked down at her, his gold eyes luminous, and pupils dilated. He pushed a single digit against her entrance, and her breath hitched.

 

 _“Ukofav..”_ He grunted. His hips were undulating against her, the head of his cock pressed between her thick thighs as he checked her readiness. Angie moaned as he rolled her clit between two digits. Normally, there was a certain measure of roughness to their coupling—a factor Angie enjoyed to the fullest. But this evening, the gentle, almost worshipful way he was touching her, was driving her crazy.

 

“You’re touching me like I’m holy,” She murmured, her fingers tracing along the sensitive edges of his pointed ears. Nick shuddered.

 

“You’re holy to _me._ ” He replied, capturing her lips again. She threw her leg over his hips, giving him better access. Nick groaned, grinding his cock against her soaking entrance. “Can I tear these, Ang?” He asked, pulling at the elastic of her panties.

 

“Fuck it.”

 

She felt the elastic snap against her skin, and the familiar press of the flat head of his cock against her pussy. Angie clenched in anticipation, reaching down to wrap her hands around the base of him, pumping gently as he sank into her. Nick moaned brokenly, and using one hand to grasp her hip, and the other braced against the bed, he began moving, shallowly thrusting into her. He wasn’t fully seated inside her, so Angie continued to tease the base of his cock with her hand.

 

Nick rocked his hips against her, his breath coming in shallow pants. “You feel so fucking good,” He moaned, sinking into her further. Angie felt him reach down to grasp her wrist. She fully expected him to pin it above her head, giving him complete control, as he often did—but instead, Nick threaded their fingers together, holding her hand as he sank in to the hilt. Angie’s eyes rolled shut and she moaned, her hips bucking. On her side like this, she couldn’t move all that much—all she could do was lay there as he thrust into her slowly.

 

“Open your eyes.” He replied softly, though his tone was commanding. Angie couldn’t help but follow the order, her eyes popping open to meet his gaze. “That’s right… _Look at me,_ ” He hissed, and Angie clenched around him. He was gripping her hips, his fingers digging into the flesh of her ass, and though his thrusts were slow and deliberate, they were almost agonizing in their intensity. “ _Jiak puav ij faushnu shal lat, agh gith liwo ukee iav'uk uorkormajal.”_

 

Angie groaned at his heated words, her cunt clenching around him. Nick licked up the side of her throat, growling. _“Lat ayh uorkormajal.”_

 

“Yours,” Angie agreed breathlessly, her voice exiting her throat in a pitiful whine. He thrust against her, the shaft of his cock sliding against her clit. Angie’s toes curled, her back arching as pressure built up her spine. It was maddening, the slow build of pleasure. And Nick was content to keep the pace, his eyes locked onto hers as he moved against her.

 

She strained, bucking her hips in an effort to force him to go faster, but Nick remained resolute. _“Aukk fin whaav lat wanav. Lup. ”_ He growled, and Angie raked her nails down his back. “Beg.” Nick repeated, his voice firm.

 

“ _Please_ , Nick, fuck I’m so close, just—” Angie felt his pleased growl thrum against her chest as he grasped her ass firmly, grinding her clit against the base of his cock. Angie let out a loud gasp, followed by several curses as he repeated the action, thrusting deeply. He reached underneath her to grip her other hipbone, dragging Angie’s clenching pussy up and down his turgid length. He leaned forward to nip at her shoulder, and Angie instinctively bared her throat to him, reveling in the approving moan that wrenched itself from his throat. He wasted no time gripping her skin between his blunt incisors.

 

She felt herself clenching around him, her walls fluttering as orgasm approached like a tidal wave. “Fuck, Nick, gonna—” Angie’s vision blurred as all coherent thought was wiped from her mind. She keened, her thigh twitching against Nick’s hip as he continued pumping into her cunt. He panted as his strokes shortened, and his hands gripped her hipbones hard enough to bruise.

 

“An..gie!” He grunted as he came, and Angie felt the familiar warmth of his cum smiling her. It was _almost_ laughable that this was precisely why they were in this situation in the first place. She made a mental note to actually investigate proper birth control after the baby came—that way she’d actually have a choice the next time she got knocked up.

 

Nick rested his forehead against hers, his eyes screwed shut. “You okay?” He asked after a moment, and Angie nodded.

 

“Very okay. And now also very tired.” She admitted, stretching. Nick was half on top of her, and his arms shook with the effort of continuing to hold himself up post coitus. He threw himself to the side, wrapping his arms around her, and pulling her back against his chest.

 

“Do you want water? More medicine? Anything?” He asked softly, his lips grazing the shell of her ear.

 

“No,” Angie shook her head, before shoving her foot between his calves. “I”m perfect just like this.” He buried his face in her hair, nodding.

 

“Good. Me too.”

 

 

_To be continued…_

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? I know, lots of boring plot stuff, but it had to be done! Below is a list of translations for the Orkish in this chapter: 
> 
> *” Seh weav” - So wet
> 
>  
> 
> * “Ukofav” - Soft
> 
>  
> 
> * “Jiak puav ij faushnu shal lat, agh gith liwo ukee iav'uk uorkormajal” - I put a baby in you, and all will know it’s mine
> 
>  
> 
> * “Aukk fin whaav lat wanav” - Ask for what you want
> 
>  
> 
> * “Lup” - Beg


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I apologize for how long it took me to update, life happened. It's hard to find time to write more than a paragraph when you're working like... 12 hour days, lol. I have every intention of finishing this series, so please bear with me and be patient, and I will do my very best to make it worth the wait. I've received a couple of questions regarding Angie's body type, and I found a pretty accurate face-claim on pinterest, if anyone is interested: 
> 
> https://i.pinimg.com/originals/e6/56/c1/e656c15b815feba9149a1ad1e61d3eb8.png

Chapter 3

 

“You’re practically glowing, _liavavle daughavas_.” Brun was doting on her again, and Angie, though irritated, couldn’t bring herself to tell him to leave her be. At home, she was fiercely vocal about doing things herself—unless she was guilting Nick into making a midnight snack run, but that was beside the point. Angie had taken to visiting Nick’s parents weekly. _Though if Ula had her way, I’m pretty sure we’d have moved in by now._ Angie thought, smiling a little to herself. Ulaorn was still teaching her Orkish—though that was slow going now.

 

Not because Angie was horrible at it, which surprised her more than Nick’s mother—no, it was because every five minutes, Ula was rubbing Angie’s belly, asking if she was too hot, too cold, sending Brun down to the kitchen to heat up delicious leftovers that Angie was too weak willed to refuse. She told herself she’d head to the gym with Sherri to work off any extra poundage— _Doctor Thompson told you to stay active!—_ but her efforts seemed futile in the face of Ula’s creamy garlic mashed potatoes, or her marinated short ribs. And if Ula was bad, Brun was ten times worse.

 

He had begun bringing home bags and bags of snacks from the pharmacy, and passing them off to Nick. Angie had never had much of a sweet tooth, but the moment she’d seen Nick unwrapping a honey bun, it had been a done deal. She’d been craving the crazy sweet little snack cakes since then, and Nick hadn’t the heart to deny her, and so she’d been hovering them up like a vacuum every time he brought them home.

 

Brun set down a glass of water in front of her, and Angie knew she wouldn’t be free of him until she’d downed the whole thing. She’d been given a clear bill of health three, now almost four weeks beforehand, but Brun and Ula still insisted on looking after her as though she were a newborn. She’d ended up at their house when she’d begun doing research for a paper—only to find that the internet was out. Brun and Ula had happily offered her their couch and full use of the internet, but Angie wasn’t fooled.

 

Angie was dutifully aware of the watchful eye of her _almost_ father in law as she finished her water. Even _Nick_ was becoming overbearing, checking in with her constantly about how she was feeling.

 

 _I’m starting to feel like a mobile baby machine,_ she groused, turning a page in her textbook with much more force than was necessary. Ula was upstairs, on the phone with one of her relatives. _Their_ relatives, she supposed, now. No matter what, even if it didn’t work out with Nick, these people would be part of her life. Her child’s life—if the delivery went as planned, anyway. It was early October now, and Doctor Thompson had theorized that the baby would be due in late March, possibly early April since they couldn’t be sure of the exact date of conception…

 

Angie smirked to herself, tapping her pen against her textbook thoughtfully. _I wonder when it happened…_ Her mind was completely off of theory now—which would have made her advisor frown long sufferingly at her—and instead Angie found herself trying to remember every instance at the end of that summer that could have been the conception. When the doctor asked her why they hadn’t been using protection, Angie felt the blush creeping quickly up her neck. As much as she’d _hated_ the other doctors, they’d had a point: they _shouldn’t_ have been able to even _get_ pregnant. And much less likely was her body’s continued support for the fetus in question—but it was happening.

 

Angie had had to shrug embarrassedly, as Doctor Thompson admonished her for not being more careful. _“Angelica, if you’re sexually compatible there’s a chance of conception. There are half elves, there can be half orcs too.”_ It was the first time anyone had lent any credence to the fact that interspecies relationships were more taboo than they were naturally impossible. She looked down at the swell underneath her sweatshirt in wonder, and not for the first time. _You should be impossible. But here you are._

 

She felt a fierce protectiveness grip her, and Angie found herself clutching her belly with one hand, her expression hard. There was no way she would allow anyone to hurt them. Not now, not ever. She wondered briefly if her own mother had felt that kind of violent love the she was born. It was hard to picture her mother, a timid, and fragile seeming woman, ever feeling that strongly about anything at all.

 

_“Momma why don’t we just leave?” Angie asked, swatting her mother’s trembling hand away as she tried to stroke her face. She swallowed angrily, the coppery taste of her own blood sour in her mouth. Her teeth had cut the inside of her lip when he’d hit her, and Angie couldn’t help but stroke the ragged edges of the wound with her tongue. The pain was sharp, and she knew she would remember this moment.Sometimes that thought occurred to her, whenever her father was particularly cruel—she knew that she would remember those exact moments for the rest of her born days._

 

_“Momma.” She spoke louder this time, more forcefully. Her mother looked around fearfully, a habit formed over many years of hushed conversations, and quickly exchanged words just out of her husband’s earshot._

 

_Her father wasn’t there, though. He’d left just after he’d cracked Angie across the face with the back of his hand. It was a hit hard enough for a grown man—but Angelica was an eleven year old girl, and the impact had bruised her cheek, splitting her lip open on the inside and out. It had sent her crumpling to the ground, as her mother watched in horror, yelling for him to stop. He’d ignored her though, muttering something about beer. Her mother looked at her sharply. Angie didn’t know where he’d gone, but she hoped he’d find his way into a ditch by morning. It was a futile hope, but one she entertained nonetheless._

 

_“Where would we go, Angelica?” Her voice was quiet, but firm. “What would we do?”_

 

_“Something. Anything. Please, Momma.” Her voice cracked a little. Angie swallowed, grimacing._ **_More blood._ ** _Her mother was silent for a moment, and then forced a smile. Angie wasn’t sure what upset her more—the grim acceptance in her mother’s eyes, or the lie that fell from her lips afterward._

 

_“Chin up, Ang. You’ll see Daddy didn’t mean it. He…he’s gonna apologize to you when he gets home. I’ll talk to him.” Angie squared her shoulders. Oh, Momma was going to talk. And Daddy was going to answer—with his fists. And maybe his feet, if he was angry enough. And if he wasn’t satisfied, he’d come to Angie next, and “talk” to her too._

 

_“Don’t bother, Momma.” She said quietly. She pushed her mother’s hands away, and wiped her bloody lip with the sleeve of her sweater. “Daddy doesn’t like to talk anyway.”_

 

Angie shook herself. No. She wasn’t going to be that kind of mother, dammit. She forced her eyes back down onto the page, her hand gripping her pen tightly. That meant she had to do what her mother had failed to do—get an education, so that she could provide for her family—with, or without Nick.

 

 _But preferably with,_ she thought, smiling a little. If anything, she could take comfort in the fact that Nick was _nothing_ like William Nicholson, who’s DNA she unfortunately shared. Nick was everything her father wasn’t—and he was everything she _needed_ him to be.

 

It was useless to try and focus with that much sugar running through her veins, and Angie snapped her book shut, grimacing. “I’ll be back for you later,” She said quietly to the textbook, pointing at it. She idly wondered what he was doing at work, and pushed herself up off of the couch.

 

Doctor Thompson had said it would be a good long while before she stopped peeing constantly, and Angie grimaced as she sat on the toilet for what seemed to be the fortieth time that day. As she was washing her hands, Angie caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She’d been breaking out for the past week—but now her skin was clearing up, the last of the irritated bumps were now small, barely noticeable patches on her cheekbones.

 

Her hair looked good too, her curls were juicy and defined and her hair was glossy and soft. Brun was right—pregnancy _did_ finally seem to be agreeing with her. A small smile crept across her lips as a wicked thought seized her. She tugged her hoodie over her head, grinning as she snapped a picture of herself, her hand cupping her breasts as she leered at the camera. She sent it to Nick, knowing she wouldn’t have to wait long for a response.

 

_N: Lucky for you, Ward’s driving._

 

_A: Lucky for_ **_you,_ ** _you mean._

 

Angie punctuated that sentence with another picture. For this one, she quickly checked that the door was still locked, just in case Ula or Brown decided they needed to check on her at that exact moment. Angie tugged down the cups of her bra, exposing the dark circles of her nipples. This time, she set a timer, and rested the phone against the sink as she posed. Her heart was beating just a _little_ faster than normal—this wasn’t something they normally did, send dirty pictures to each other. It was kind of… hot.

 

She sent it to Nick, with an emoji wearing an angel’s halo directly under it. He had to have been staring at his phone, because a speech bubble with three dots in it instantly appeared, signifying that he was typing.

 

_N: Fuck, Angie… ever since you got pregnant, your nipples have been so puffy… pinch them for me. Right now._

 

Angie had never understood the appeal of sexting, but now, she could see it. She could practically hear the command in Nick’s gruff voice. And though she knew if she didn’t want to, he wouldn’t force her, there was a sort of excitement about sending him inappropriate pics to look at over the course of the day. Angie sent another one, setting another timer as she rolled her sensitive nipples between her fingers, licking her lips.

_A: like this?_

 

_N: Fuck yes, Ang, just like that. Can I see your ass too, baby?_

 

Angie angled the phone behind her, suddenly extremely glad she’d decided to wear a thong today. It was hard for her to feel pretty, or even remotely attractive when every day she woke up, her body was different. Sherri had given her the idea to wear lingerie anyway, under her clothes.

 

_“Trust me, Ang, it helped me when I was pregnant and feeling awful. Maybe it’ll help.”_

 

 _I’ll have to text Sherri and tell her her plan was a winner,_ Angie thought to herself as she snapped the picture. When she sent it, Nick’s response was immediate.

 

_N:More._

 

Angie was embarrassed to feel the sticky wetness between her thighs—she hadn’t really expected it to go this far, though she couldn’t honestly say she minded. She held the phone up to take another body shot, but grimaced when she saw it. At this angle, her pregnant belly was clearly visible, the small swell poking out below her breasts. Angie moved to delete it, but her finger slipped, pressing against the “send” button. Her heart fell. It wasn’t like Nick didn’t see her body on an almost daily basis, but this was different. She was trying to be sexy and enticing, not remind him that in five months they’d have more responsibility than either of them ever expected.

 

_A: Sorry, didn’t mean to kill the mood by sending an outtake_

 

_N: What? Angie, I love seeing your belly._

 

_A: Why?_

 

_N: Because it’s so sexy. Knowing there’s a baby in there, and I’m the one who put it in you, knowing you’re mine… You’d better be home when I get off, Angie. Because my parents are going to hear us if I have to come pick you up._

 

_A: Is that a threat?_

 

_N: No, love, it’s a promise._

 

Angie couldn’t help but smile to herself.

 

_A: I’ll be home._

 

Angie turned on the sink, and splashed a little cold water onto her suddenly sweaty face. _Knuckle down, Ang._ She thought to herself, curling her fingers into a fist on the cold porcelain of the sink. She squared her shoulders, and headed back out into the living room, where her theory textbook sat exactly where she’d left it. She flipped it open to where she’d left off.

 

It was hours before Angie felt as though she’d finally surfaced from drowning in her studies. She’d never been the _best_ at school—she’d kept her grades just high enough to avoid reprimand, before she’d unceremoniously dropped out just before college application season in her senior year.

 

She hadn’t spoken to either of her parents since then, though she imagined she knew exactly what they’d say. Angie closed her textbooks, before closing her eyes and rubbing her knuckles against them.

 

“I forgot how much fucking _reading_ was involved with school,” She muttered miserably, unfolding her legs. Her calves tingled uncomfortably, and she grimaced, wincing. Angie had set herself up on the couch, with a foldout tray table as her desk. A comfortable decision at first, though now her back was aching from hours of no support.

 

“Yes, it’s going to be a lot of work.” Ulaorn’s stern voice startled Angie, and she jumped a little, before glancing toward the stairs. Nick’s mother was carrying down a small suitcase, though Angie wasn’t quite sure why. Angie stood, stretching and rubbing her lower back. “We’ll get support pillows for the couch.” Ula replied nonchalantly, as though Angie had suggested it first.

 

“You don’t have to—”

 

“How can you study comfortably if you don’t have the right pillows for your back? It’ll be better for the baby.”

 

Ulaorn’s take charge attitude had only increased as Angie got further and further along. She’d text Nick links to different baby products she saw, offering endless advice, which Angie was sort of grateful for. After all, Angie suspected her own mother wouldn’t be particularly forthcoming with advice even if she bridged the gap to ask her herself.

 

Ula stared at her, her eyebrow ridge raised in obvious question. If Angie consented, it meant she’d be expected to study here. Ulaorn’s eyes flicked down to Angie’s stomach, and then returned to meet her unsure gaze. _Now I get why it’s so hard for Nick to say no to her._ Angie swallowed thickly.

 

“Sure. It.. it would be nice.”

 

Ula nodded curtly. She turned to the suitcase she’d brought downstairs, and knelt beside it, unzipping it quickly. “I have something you two should have,” she replied, her voice soft. “It was Nick’s when he was a baby, and, well…” she moved aside a few items of clothing, before pulling out a quilted blanket. It looked thick and soft, and when Ula handed it gently to Angie, her suspicions were confirmed.

 

“Ula this is beautiful. Did you make this?” she asked, looking up at the older female. Ula grinned a little, her mouth curving up around her tusks.

 

“I’m an Orc of many talents.” Angie smiled.

 

“When you come study again, we’ll go over some new verbs,” Ula replied, kneeling down again to zip back up the suitcase. Angie groaned. Ula was a somewhat… difficult teacher. _Exacting would be a better word,_ Angie thought to herself. _Grueling._ Angie was sure the children in the school district had rejoiced when Ulaorn Jakoby retired. She was an excellent teacher, attentive and encouraging. _But also on par with college professors in their levels of expectation._

 

“Okay. If I get all my work done in time.” Ula seemed to accept that condition, and carried the suitcase over to the foot of the stairs, where she placed it just out of the way, against the wall. Angie’s phone buzzed. She glanced at it, and her eyes widened.

 

_N: I’m home. Where are you??_

 

Angie grimaced. _Ah shit._

 

_A: Shit! Sorry, I’m leaving your parents place now. Your mom gave me a quilt!_

 

_N: That’s very nice. You were supposed to be home when I got here, remember?_

 

Angie rolled her eyes. Angie knew this routine—he was put out that he’d have to wait for her to get home, so she could…well, _put out_. It would be masquerading as concern, sure. But as soon as she got home, he’d be waiting for her in the hallway.

 

_I’ll be lucky if I even make it to the damn door._

 

_A: I’m sorry, babe. I’ll be home as fast as I can. I’d speed, but, you know. You’re a professional narc._

 

_N: You could speed a little…_

 

Angie laughed.

 

“Ula, I’ve got to get going. I’m supposed to meet your son at home, and he’s wondering where I am.”

 

“Oh, alright. Well, wait, I’ve got some leftovers in the fridge, let me get them for you…”

 

 

—

 

Nick shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He couldn’t escape the feeling he was being watched. What made it worse was that it was probably true. The tabloid papers had been following them for months, and though they’d mostly given up, Nick still sometimes found candid shots of himself—or worse, blurry ones of Angie—littering their trashy pages. Angie herself seemed less concerned than he was, though he couldn’t blame her. She had other things to be concerned about, like the baby growing inside her, and the classes she was taking.

 

 _It’s not like they’re lurking around every corner, Nick,_ he thought to himself, sitting up a little straighter in his seat. He glanced up at the clock. _Just another hour._ Work was becoming more and more peripheral. He still loved his job—mostly—but… with Angie at home, his every nerve was yelling constantly for him to be with her, guard her, protect her, cover her in his scent… Nick shuddered. And those fucking pictures hadn’t helped. It was all he could do not to throw Ward out of the car and drive straight over to his parents’ house and have her there in the bathroom.

 

“Hey. You awake in there?” He hadn’t noticed Ward making his way over to his desk, and Nick’s gaze snapped upward.

 

“Oh. Yeah. You know, just thinking.”

 

Ward nodded. “Yeah, I bet you’re scared shitless. I didn’t… I didn’t want to be a dad, when Sophia was born.” He replied, rubbing his neck and averting his gaze just slightly. Nick had seen Ward with Sophia, seen just how much he loved her. It was impossible for Nick to imagine a time where Ward _hadn’t_ wanted Sophia. He arched an eyebrow ridge and shook his head. Nick opened his mouth to speak, but Ward cut him off. “It’s not what you’re thinking. Sherri, she… ugh, I can’t believe I’m telling you this, she changed her mind about having, you know, an abortion. So the whole time I’m angry. Feel trapped and shit.” Ward sighed. “But then she came. And she was so perfect, and I knew Sherri did the right fucking thing. So don’t be scared.”

 

Nick _wasn’t_ scared. If anything, he was in bliss. It was outsiders that he feared. “I’m worried they’re going to come back, Ward.” He said quietly, looking around the mostly empty room. “I’m afraid they’re going to come back and I won’t be able to save them. Worse, that I’ll have to fucking _choose_.” He replied, his hands balling into a fist on the table. Angie had reassured him time and time again that it wasn’t his fault.

 

 _“If you’d been there they would have fucking shot you, too, Nick.”_ _She’d stared hard at him, her hands on her hips. It would have made a much more intimidating picture if she hadn’t been wearing beat up Adida slides, and a ratty old t-shirt that had slipped down one shoulder. “I know it’s… probably wrong but I’m glad you weren’t there. I’m glad it wasn’t you because I would have had to watch you die.”_

 

Nick had begged to differ, of course, considering that he was fairly immune to pain during a rage, but he kept his mouth securely shut. Angie didn’t blame him, but that was not a suitable relief for the blame he placed on himself.

 

“It’ll be a long time before they get the guts to do anything like that again. We took out so many of them.” Ward spoke so confidently, Nick almost felt bad contradicting him.

 

It was true, the MTF, combined with the LAPD had dealt Humans First a fairly heavy blow It wasn’t just about how many they’d killed at the site; they’d been able to get several of the survivors to flip, ratting out more powerful and influential members. It had been a huge case, hence why it was still being processed. But Nick knew better than to believe every single one of them had been caught and incarcerated or killed. Many of them had probably simply left, abandoning the cause once it became too dangerous. Others, had gone dark. Waiting to recover and regroup, and…

 

“They’re roaches.” Nick replied, his voice low. “And I bet they’re just as fucking hard to kill.” He clenched his fists tightly, his nails digging into the thick skin of his palms. “How do I protect them from something I can’t kill?” Nick asked, looking up at Ward with dark eyes.

 

Ward sighed. “I ask myself the same question.” He scrubbed a hand down his face, before clapping Nick on the shoulder. “You can’t kill hate. Or ignorance. But all you can do is… show them they didn’t kill _you_. You can’t raise a kid in a war zone, Jakoby. Be present, or don’t be there at all. Don’t get preoccupied trying to fight an enemy you can’t beat. You still have to live. So does your kid. So go live.”

 

“And if they come after us, Ward?”

 

“Plan for it. But don’t live for it.”

 

Nick opened his mouth to ask another question, but Ward shrugged him off. It seemed the brief window of his kindness had closed again, but Nick was happy he’d gotten to share even that. Ward was his friend—one of his _only_ friends, and even if he was gruff. He grinned to himself, wondering if Angie was home already from his parents’ place. _I certainly hope so._ Nick cleared the papers from his desk, sliding them into a drawer and then locking it, just to be safe. It wouldn’t do for any of the other officers to read the confidential files Kandomere wasn’t quite aware that Nick had kept.

 

Nick made his way down to the locker room, which was fairly empty, except for a few other officers. Rodriguez, Harrison, and Nevins all greeted him as he walked in, though Harrison’s tone was clipped. He glared at Nick, though he averted his eyes once he got close enough to see the curl of Nick’s lip. No one knew about his…ancestry, but the majority of the men on the force had seen him on the news, beating a man’s bloody face into the pavement.

 

Nick found that after that, he wasn’t particularly worried about any of the men on the force coming after him. Still, Harrison looked at him with cold anger. “I hear congratulations are in order, Jakoby,” Rodriguez replied, clapping him on the back. “Chief let it slip you’re, uh,” He brought both of his hands in a circle around his belly, eyebrows raised. Nick grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

“Thanks. I’ll probably take some time off, you know, when the baby comes.” Nevins raised an eyebrow.

 

“You? Take time off? What’ll she be doing?” Nick shrugged. It wasn’t necessarily customary for male Orcs to be extremely present in their children’s early days, but Nick wanted to. He knew Angie regarded the future with a healthy amount of skepticism and uncertainty—which, given what he knew of her own childhood, made complete sense. But Nick himself could feel nothing but excitement. His family was _finally_ going to be complete. Now all he had to do was lock it in. Propose. Make it completely official. And though logically he knew Angie had no intentions of going anywhere, part of him feared asking the question—because it might inspire her to run. His thoughts were interrupted by an irritated sniff, accompanied by the slamming of a locker.

 

“Although some of us read it in TMZ. You know.” Harrison shrugged, “Not that it’s an embarrassment to the entire department. And the force.”

 

Nick tried to swallow the biting retort he could feel forming in his mouth. _Sure. Little kids get shot playing outside? Totally fine. I get my girlfriend pregnant? Embarrassment to the force._ Harrison was, as Angie would say, _in his feelings_ about their relationship, and the article had just been salt in the wounds. It wasn’t _only_ Nick who saw Angie as beautiful and desirable. He recalled Ward telling him something similar—that they would resent him more for taking one of the pretty ones. Nick smiled nastily at him, a grin that would have bared his tusks, had he let them grow out. Harrison stepped back just a little as his expression turned from one of righteous anger to uncertainty.

 

“You’re right. Sorry that my girlfriend got kidnapped, and now TMZ’s following me around, trying to get pictures every time I wipe my ass. That’s the _real_ embarrassment to the force.” Nick replied forcefully, slamming his locker shut. Angie was at home, waiting for him, hopefully naked on their bed, and he was here, dealing with Harrison’s ignorant bullshit. He knew it wasn’t _just_ the fact that Harrison had read the story in the paper that had the other man riled up—it was the fact that Nick had gotten Angie pregnant at all. He was a lot of things; an Orc, a berserker, and now a father—but he _wasn’t_ stupid. At least, _he_ didn’t think so. He could tell that what had gotten under Harrison’s skin was the fact that this was a _thing_ now.

 

Before, they could tell themselves that this was a passing fancy. A strange one, to be sure, but Angie would wise up. She’d leave him. Now, they could no longer repeat that pious lie to themselves.

 

Nick snorted, beginning to unbutton his uniform shirt. Harrison seemed cowed, though not mollified. It wasn’t over, not by a long shot, but it _was_ over for today.

 

“Just saying maybe keep a tighter lid on your shit, is all. I didn’t mean anything.”

 

_Fucking liar._

 

“I’ll keep that helpful advice in mind.” Nick bit out, before turning his back to the other officer. He’d deal with Harrison another time—he wasn’t particularly in the mood to get reprimanded by the chief for breaking another officer’s jaw.

 

No matter how tempting the prospect.

 

Nick continued changing without another word, before closing his own locker, and heading for the officer’s parking lot. He wouldn’t take the cruiser home, not that it mattered now. _I hope Angie’s home already._ His nostrils flared at the thought of her waiting for him, and he continued out of the building, a spring in his step. Nick had given up resisting the many impulses he’d developed since meeting Angie; drawing her close to inhale her scent whenever he pleased, caressing her soft skin with the tips of his fingers. He didn’t deserve her—that was something both he _and_ Harrison could agree on. But he wasn’t giving her up, that was for certain.

 

He smirked to himself. Ward had been right in warning him that people would be angry he was with Angie. That they would be jealous, even. He glanced over his shoulder at Harrison, who, sure enough, was shooting him venomous glares from the opposite side of the locker room. His bearded mouth was twisted into a scowl as he threw his uniform shirt into his locker. _Nick_ was the one who got to go home to Angie—not Harrison, not anyone else. _He_ was the one who held her every single night, and the one who got to fuck her willing body into the mattress whenever he wanted.

 

And he wanted to _right now_.

 

Nick closed his locker, spinning the combination keys between his fingers, scrambling the numbers. He shouldered the duffel bag containing his laundry and personal effects before heading out to his car. The big, old red Ford that greeted him was exactly where he’d left it in the parking lot, the wheel lock still sitting inside the steering wheel. Angie made fun of him for having such an old fashioned device, but it worked. His car had never been stolen.

 

Of course, Angie would argue that hers hadn’t been stolen either, negating his point. Ward’s truck wasn’t there either, signifying the older cop had already exited the building. Nick unlocked the door. Out of habit, he began to text Angie to see if she wanted him to pick up anything for dinner, but stopped himself. She was _still_ on a cooking kick, and would probably find it a little insulting if he volunteered to get takeout.

 

And the _last_ thing he needed after Harrison’s little show was to get iced out. Nick dropped his phone into the open middle console, and started the car. He let it idle for a few minutes before pulling out onto the street. It was early evening, and even though he was leaving work a little later than usual, traffic was still bad.

 

When he finally got home almost an hour later, he noted Angie’s car wasn’t parked out front.

 

_She probably couldn’t find a spot._

 

He checked the mail before heading upstairs. _It’s going to be hard for her to manage soon,_ he thought idly, unlocking the door. They’d both only just stopped cautiously checking the door and entryway every time they came in. Nick wondered how Angie could stand to be there, after both the vandalism and then the break in. _Although,_ Nick thought dryly, _living with mom and dad would be…challenging._ Ignoring the stray thought that even “challenging” was putting it mildly, Nick strode into the apartment, kicking off his shoes by the door.

 

A single pull of air through his sensitive nostrils told him everything he needed to know. Angie wasn’t there. The lights were off, and the most distinct smell he could make out was the oatmeal they’d scarfed down that morning before he’d had to go to work.

 

Nick tugged his phone out of his pocket, narrowing his eyes. He could feel irritation and anxiety creeping up his spine. Where _was_ she? She was supposed to be home. _His_ woman was _supposed_ to be home when he got here. _._

 

_N: Why aren’t you home?_

 

Nick deleted the accusatory text, and shut his eyes, taking a deep breath. Everything that could possibly go wrong was running through his head. She was dead. Kidnapped again.

 

_N: I’m home. Where are you??_

 

He only had to wait a minute or two for Angie to respond. She was still at his parents place, of course. She’d stayed late by accident, and was on her way home. Nick felt the tension leave his shoulders, though the irritation stubbornly remained. He threw his coat onto the rack by the hall table, his lips pressed into a thin line.

 

“I am _not_ just annoyed because Angie wasn’t home and I wanted her to be.” He muttered, making his way to the bedroom. Nick grabbed his towel, before glancing at himself in the full length mirror on the back of their bedroom door. “I am _not_.”

 

His own yellow eyes gazed back at him, and Nick sighed. “Whatever.” Maybe Angie’s moodiness was rubbing off on him. By the time he’d showered, changed, and had begun digging through the fridge for viable snacks, Nick heard her key in the lock.

 

“Babe? Sorry I’m late, but I come bearing gifts,” she called. She sounded a little out of breath, as though she’d had a bit of a rough time coming up the stairs. “Your mom said lamb makes the baby grow up strong.” In addition to the backpack he’d seen her leave with this morning, Angie had returned with two large reusable bags of tupperware, all, he assumed, containing various kinds of leftovers his mother had saved.

 

“She _did_ feed me a hell of a lot of mutton growing up. Maybe it checks out,” Nick replied cheekily, leaning down to brush his lips against hers. She grinned.

 

“Maybe it does.” Angie sighed, looking at the veritable sea of food she’d brought home with her. She stepped out of her shoes, before groaning, pressing her hands to the small of her back with a particularly sour grimace.

 

“Back bothering you, babe?” He asked, batting her small hand out of the way so that he could stroke her back through the hoodie she wore.

 

“Big time. I’m glad Ulaorn sent all this food home with me.” Angie brushed his hand away, grinning. “Sorry again. I know you’re practically dripping with pheromones, but if you let me shower, I promise it’ll be worth the wait,” She replied, leaning her head back against his chest. Begrudgingly slowly, Nick released her. He knew, logically, that her comfort was more important than his lust, but it didn’t stop him from squeezing her just a little tighter before he let go completely. 

 

Angie headed down the hallway to the bathroom, and Nick grabbed the bags of tupperware his mother had sent home with his girlfriend. Angie’s experimental forays into the world of food weren’t bad, and she was getting better—but Nick had to admit he’d always have a soft spot for his mother’s cooking. He could tell Angie was a little torn between being relieved his mother seemed to be completely content to cook another household’s worth of food, or offended that she thought she was incapable of feeding him properly.

 

He set about portioning out their servings, listening the the pipes rattle as Angie began showering. _I can’t wait to be out of this fucking apartment._ Nick had always considered himself fairly handy. He could fix most of the things wrong with their little slice of heaven—but he wasn’t allowed to knock down the walls to get to those blasted pipes. And their super was older than Nick’s parents, and rarely got around to some of the bigger issues.In the periphery of his consciousness, a door slammed, and Nick furrowed his brows. It would also be nice not to be surrounded by people on all sides at all hours of the day.

 

Nick stuck Angie’s plate in the microwave first, setting the timer. Angie wouldn’t be long, he knew. By the time he’d put the plates on the table and taken out forks, she was padding into the kitchen. She was wearing a giant, fluffy, purple robe she’d recently bought. “Thanks for that,” Angie replied gratefully, tugging a chair away from the table.

 

 

“How was your day?” He asked, seating himself. “Was it boring at my parents place?”

 

“Your mother is trying to bribe me with an expensive back pillow,” Angie replied, taking a bite of her food hungrily. “And to be honest it’s kind of working.”

 

Nick barked out a laugh. “Good to know you can be bought with pillows. I could have saved so much money on dates.” He replied, adding a note of regret to his voice. Angie snorted.

 

“You never took me anywhere, if I recall correctly. We’ve been on notably few dates,” Angie shot back, grinning at him. “I’m pretty sure we went on our first one like six months ago.”

 

“Only because I was scared we were going to get targeted.”

 

“Which happened anyway.”

 

“Fair point,” Nick replied. He shifted, and accidentally bumped her sock clad foot under the table. Angie snorted childishly.

 

“You trying to play footsies with me now, Nicholas?” She replied indignantly, sliding her foot up his calf. “If I’m so cheap and easily bought, you might try something of equal or greater value than a body pillow.” Nick laughed, before trapping her foot between his muscular calves, as she whined. “Hey! Free me!”

 

Nick sighed long sufferingly, and released her ankle from the prison of his legs. “Ang, have you looked at any more houses lately?” He asked, and she shook her head.

 

“Well, no. We can’t… we can’t really afford it right now, and we’re stuck in this lease for a whole 7 months anyway.” She grumbled. “I saw a flyer on campus for some work-studies, though,” Angie replied, her voice thoughtful. Nick fought the urge to immediately shake his head to the contrary. It was bad enough that _he_ was working constantly, and couldn’t keep an eye on her. Angie working would mean she’d be out of the house even more—which was more time he had to be worried about her safety. He knew, of course, that Angie was just trying to help their finances. Nick wasn’t worried about paying rent on his own, he’d been doing it for the past three, almost four months. It was the _moving_ part of moving that they couldn’t afford. Security deposits, putting down money on a house—those things…. he just couldn’t manage.

 

Nick wasn’t sure what made him angrier—not being able to provide the way he wanted to, or the fact that his family was attempting to step in and do his job for him. Just two weeks ago, Brun had pulled him aside, offering to give them a loan in order to move. He’d patiently refused it, though the thought that his father didn’t trust him enough to care for his lover and offspring was…unsettling.

 

“I thought Doctor and Professor Thompson told you to get a lot of rest.”

 

“They also told me to stay active,” She shot back, and Nick could see that though he was set against it, this was a losing battle. “Besides, it will help with bills, and I’ll be able to get out of the house more. I’m bored, Nick. And I feel like shit with you paying for everything.” She replied, finishing the last of the food on her plate.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Helping with the sound production for some campus events, stuff for the theater department. I basically sit in a booth and push buttons and turn dials.”

 

“That’s a big change,” Nick said carefully.

 

“Yeah, well, not too many places want to hire a pregnant waitress. And I figure it’ll be good to know about production. You know.” 2

 

“Of course! I just… I’m worried.” He admitted, swallowing a forkful of mashed potatoes. Ward had _just_ advised him earlier to live his life instead of drowning himself in anxiety, but that was a difficult pill to swallow. Ward hadn’t had to wonder whether the love of his life was dead. _I really thought she was gone._ He hadn’t gotten to that warehouse expecting to find Angie injured and concussed—but alive. He’d been expecting… it didn’t matter now. That was done. He had to let her live.

 

“I know.” She replied softly. “But it really would help. And I think I’ll end up murdering someone if all my leisure time ends up spent at your parent’s house.”

 

“That’s fair,” Nick replied. He cleared his plate, and began washing up before Angie shooed him away.

 

“And.. I just don’t want to end up like my mom, you know?” Nick swallowed thickly. Angie didn’t usually talk about her parents voluntarily, so she must have been particularly concerned in order to bring them up.

 

“The fact that you have the presence of mind to think that, means that you won’t.” He replied, placing a comforting hand on the small of her back. Angie was the type of person who needed to keep busy to drown out the anxiety, so as much as he wanted to regain control of the chores, he knew she needed the busywork while they spoke. Nick had made a rule of trying to avoid asking about her home or her childhood, and what little he’d been able to glean had been decidedly unpleasant.

 

“My dad… he made sure my mom never worked. Even when he was jobless, he said he wasn’t going to let any wife of his _embarrass him.”_ Angie’s voice was low and bitter, and Nick could almost _feel_ the anger rolling off of her in waves at the memory.

 

“I’m not him, and you’re not her.” He said softly, and Angie’s shoulders sagged for a moment, before she glanced over her shoulder at him.

 

“I know, I know you’re not. I know _we’re_ not.” Nick leaned forward to drop an apologetic kiss on the back of her neck, just above the collar of her robe. Talking about her parents was like pulling teeth, and just as painful. “It’s just… I can’t help thinking about them all the time, now, you know? I get scared it’s genetic.”

 

Nick scoffed, and shook his head. “There’s no way its genetic. Your father hates Orcs. And here you are knocked up by one.” He replied, and she laughed softly. “Besides, I’ve never met anyone who seemed _less_ likely to be a neglectful, absent parent. You tried to club a doctor with a granite name plate for suggesting we abort,” he reminded her, and Angie laughed softly.

 

“And I’d do it again,” She remarked, setting her shoulders defiantly. She finished washing up, and then started to put the dishes away. Nick tried to help, but Angie rounded on him, her lips pursed.

 

“Don’t you have paperwork or something to do? I got this. Be gone.” She dismissed him with a queenly wave of her hand, and Nick backed off, removing himself to the living room. When Angie was finished, she joined him on the couch, still wearing her massive, fluffy robe. Her kinky hair was loose, falling in defined curls around her shoulders. Shamelessly, Nick grabbed her, tugging her into his lap so he could bury his nose in her hair. He reached into the robe, and was surprised to encounter her bare stomach, which he stroked lovingly.

 

“You’re naked under here?” He asked, a little surprised.

 

“I was too lazy to get dressed knowing that in an hour or two you were just going to take it all off again.” She said nonchalantly, and Nick swallowed thickly. “Or did you forget?”

 

He shook his head quickly. _He_ was usually the one to…initiate most of their couplings, though Angie always met him enthusiastically. Quite a few of the books he’d read seemed to indicate that the spike in hormones could increase her sex drive, but he hadn’t been expecting _this_. She grinned up at him with lidded eyes, and suddenly, Nick wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to the basketball game droning on in the background, or the paperwork he’d begun to sort through.

 

Her head rested on the arm of their beat up sofa, her lips stretched into a mischievous smile. Nick traced the soft skin of her plump lower lip with the pad of his finger. “I didn’t forget.” He murmured, his hand moving to cup her jaw gently. “But if I recall correctly,” Nick began, sliding the sleeves of her robe down off her shoulders to expose smooth, cinnamon brown skin. “You were supposed to be home, and waiting for me.”

 

Angie laughed softly, wiggling her arms out of the robe. It was still tied loosely around her waist, though Nick wasn’t particularly concerned with undoing her careful knot. _Fuck._ “Ang… God, did your tits get bigger?” Nick asked, unable to stop his hands from cupping the flesh in question. They looked bigger, and felt heavier. Angie’s nipples were looking larger and darker too, all changes that Nick found more and more arousing the longer he spent thinking about them. He ran his thumbs across her nipples, rolling them gently between his fingers.

 

Angie groaned, and fidgeted, her ass rubbing against the growing erection in his sweatpants. “They’re sensitive, Nick…” She shifted again, and he couldn’t help the roll of his hips into her ample backside. Angie gasped as he grasped her hip with one hand, and rested the other at the small of her back, shifting her so that she was sitting upright on his lap, facing him. Or rather, looking down at him as he captured one of her swollen nipples between his lips. He ran his tongue across the tip of it, reveling in the slow shudder that worked it’s way down her spine at the feel of his tongue.

 

Nick slid his other hand down the smooth skin of her thigh, his fingers finding the growing moistness between her legs. “Fuck, Ang.” He inhaled deeply, running his tongue along her collarbone. “You smell so fucking good.” Nick slid his fingers against the swollen lips of her pussy, his fingers moving easily through her slick folds. One of her hands found purchase on his shoulder, massaging the tense muscle. The other found it’s way to the sensitive tip of his pointed ear, stroking it. Nick shuddered, growling. He thrust his hips up, grinding his growing erection against the dampness he could feel growing at the apex of her thighs.

 

 _This_ was what he had been waiting for. Nick thought about Harrison, and grimaced against the smooth skin of Angie’s throat, tightening his hold on her possessively.

 

“I was doing my homework, which if I had been _‘home waiting for you’_ , would never have gotten done.” Nick grinned against the skin of her throat. She was right. “Besides. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” She replied snappily. He chuckled.

 

“You’re right,” Nick said softly, kissing her collar bone. He’d carefully kept his fangs filed, so that there wouldn’t be a terrifying repeat of his new fangs tearing easily through her soft flesh. Although… He’d been ashamed to admit that he’d _liked_ seeing her all marked up, a little bloody. And after all she’d been through… _Jesus what the fuck is wrong with me?_

 

“Earth to Nick? Hello?” Angie giggled, her hand tracing slow patterns down his muscular chest. “You’re a thousand miles away.” The cuts had healed easily, though he’d not been lucky enough to not leave a few small, puckered scars on the soft skin of her throat. But Angie didn’t seem to mind, and wore them proudly. Maybe that was the draw.

 

“Sorry.” He replied gruffly, squeezing her growing hips in his hands. “Just thinking about you.” Angie cocked her head to the side, exposing the scars he’d _just_ been thinking about. _God fucking damn._ He couldn’t help the little growl that worked it’s way out of his throat, and Angie smirked knowingly. “How do you know me so well?” He asked, one hand gently rubbing the swell of her belly.

 

“You let me in.” Angie stroked the side of his face, her thumb running over his lips. “You make me feel good. About myself, about my life. And hopeful. And I hadn’t… I… I forgot what it felt like.” She leaned down to kiss him, her tongue running gently against the seam of his lips. “I love you.”

 

Nick crushed Angie to his chest, burying his nose in her hair. “I love you Angie. I love you so goddamn much it scares me.” Nick was still hard in his sweatpants, his hand stroking her stomach, and the other holding her hip. He ground against her, reveling in the wetness he could feel soaking into the fabric. “I don’t deserve you,” He replied, his voice a low growl. He could see her forming a response, and quieted her with a look. “But I’ll be _damned_ if I let anyone else have you.” He reached underneath them to tug his pants down just enough to free his cock.

 

Nick glanced up at her, his nostrils flaring. He remembered the first thing he’d thought when he’d seen her; how brave she was, how beautiful. _Even braver now. And just as beautiful._ He thrust his cock against her, groaning loudly at the feel of her slick folds against his sensitive flesh. Angie gasped and shuddered, her hips jerking against him.

 

 _“Jiak kij uko lacka-usan,”_ He growled, and Angie’s eyes lit with mischievous recognition.

 

“You’re lucky? Why?” She panted, reaching between them to stroke the length of him as he drew away from her. Nick groaned, palming one of her breasts in his hand. More Orkish poured out of his short circuiting brain, and he was thankful she knew enough to understand. “ _Becauuke lat're uorkormajal.”_

 

“Just yours. Only yours.” Angie replied, nodding. He pushed the head of his cock against her entrance, his eyes sliding half shut as he worked his way inside. She was swollen and throbbing around him, and a needy whine escaped her throat. “Please fuck me, Nick,” She moaned, and he grinned, his lidded eyes meeting hers.

 

 _“Ser nedausuan.”_ He murmured, thrusting against her. Angie groaned, her hands finding the tips of his ears. He growled, dragging her hips down to the hilt of his engorged cock. Her pussy throbbed, and Angie there her head back, a ragged groan tearing from her lips and bouncing off of the walls. He wondered briefly if the neighbors could hear them as Angie raised her hips and brought them down hard against him.

 

“Fuuuck, Ang,” He rasped, his tongue darting out to lick dry lips as he grasped her shoulders, holding her fast against him as he drove his his up against her. She was soaked, her juices leaking down both of their thighs. He felt her tighten hard around him, her back arching in his grip.

 

“Nick—Fuck, I’m cumming— _shit—“_ He felt her explode around him, her cunt molding itself to him tightly again and again as he thrust into her without missing a beat. He growled, and with a small smile, Angie tilted her head, exposing the now scarred side of her throat to his hungry gaze. Nick cursed, pumping his hips against her harder than before, as he dragged his blunt teeth against the raised marks of her scar. He came, then, hard, his breath rising from his throat in ragged pants as he gasped against her.

 

Angie’s hips were still trembling, her eyes glazed and lidded. He kissed her, and she smiled against his mouth, kissing him back. “Worth the wait?” She asked, grinning wickedly, and Nick grinned.

 

“You’re worth way more than the wait.” Nick replied softly, kissing her nose.

 

“Then do me a favor and carry me to the bed? My ankles are swollen.”

 

Nick laughed.

 

 

 

 

_To be continued_

 

 

 _*Ser nnedausuan —_ So needy

 

* _Jiak kij uko lacka-usan —_ I am so lucky

 

* _Becauuke lat're uorkormajal. —_ Because you are mine

 

* _Liavavle daughavas_ — _Little daughter_


End file.
